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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29861367">A History of Letters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitcat300/pseuds/Kitcat300'>Kitcat300</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Timeless (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Flynn has some serious prejudice issues, I am slowly losing my mind but I'm writing this anyway, Iris is a moody teenager, Jiya is irritated with Rufus, Lucy has issues of her own, Rufus is too shy to show up, They are all idiots in their own ways, Two Professors at war, occasional bad language</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:47:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>41,098</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29861367</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitcat300/pseuds/Kitcat300</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU</p><p>Lucy Preston has started a new job after revelations forced her to leave her old one.  The past keeps following her around.  Garcia Flynn has moved his family across the country for a new start but things are not going as smoothly as he had hoped.  Flynn and Lucy butt head almost immediately.  Can their friends and family help them to see beyond their initial prejudice to what matters most?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston, Rufus Carlin/Jiya</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Meetings</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please ignore typing errors.  I have decide to embrace them.</p><p>The chapter count is a rough plan and subject to change depending on my mood 😄</p><p>Comments and kudos welcomed.  Thanks in advance for reading.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Dear History Geek,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Today was a BAD DAY!!!  I got sent to detention and my dad is gonna KILL me!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It wasn’t my fault.  Honest!  This total Jock swiped my bag off my shoulder then he and his pack started pulling everything out of it, right there in the hallway.  What was I supposed to do?  Stand and wait for him to get bored?  AND he found the picture of my mom.  He started waving it around and saying some seriously not cool stuff.  Everything got RED real fast.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I probably shouldn’t have hit him that last time but how was I supposed to know he’d have such a glass jaw? I mean, he’s on the football team.  Aren’t they supposed to be tough?  It’s not like he lost a tooth or anything.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But the thing my dad’s going to be the most mad about is what I said to my Head of Year.  I didn’t call him a douche or anything, even though I wanted to.  I remembered what you said and I tried to make a calm and reasoned argument but when he said the football team was more important than some little girls hurt feelings … well.  I dropped the F-bomb and told him what he could do with the entire stinking, over-funded, brain-dead sports department.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>… I got a two week suspension.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Do you think I can just pretend to go to school so my dad doesn’t find out?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You better keep this as evidence in case they can’t find my body.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was nice knowing you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rainbow Goddess</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Squinting in the pitiful rays of natural light that managed to make it through to her slightly-bigger-than-a-shoe-box office, Lucy didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh.  She settled for running her fingers through her hair - haircut she remembered absently and jotted a note down on the first thing that came to hand - and pulling open a drawer to find something to pin back the worst of its weight.  It was all well and good to have long hair but no-one told people about how it got in the way when you spent half your life leaning forwards grading papers or trying to respond to teenage runaway wannabes.</p><p>“Problems?”  Jiya sloped into the room, dropping her oversized canvas bag on the floor and flopping down on the battered sofa wedged between the two walls, pushing aside papers and files in the process.</p><p>“Hmm?”</p><p>“You look like I feel so I’m asking.  Have you got problems?”</p><p>“Oh.”  Lucy looked down at the heavily doodled page she held and sighed.  “Teenage angst.”</p><p>“Aren’t you a bit old?”</p><p>With a withering look at the sneakers, capri pants and layered sweater the other woman wore like a uniform on campus, Lucy responded tartly, “You really want to go there?”</p><p>Jiya shrugged, a wicked gleam in her eye, as she pulled a mobile from her pocket and made a show of tapping at it.  “Want to know how many nanoseconds older than me you are?”</p><p>It was ridiculous but Lucy felt the weight on her shoulders lessen.  She mock frowned, “When I meet the guy that made you that app…”</p><p>Quicker than lightening the mood in the office changed as black clouds started building in vicinity of the other woman.  She flicked non-existent lint off her knee.  “Yeah.  Not happening.”</p><p>Oh no.  Trouble in paradise, dead ahead.  “I thought it was all arranged?”  Lucy asked carefully. </p><p>Jiya’s mouth set into a thin line.  “He pulled out.”</p><p>“Again?”</p><p>“Right???”  The younger woman dropped her head back, making a study of the water marked ceiling.  “I’m not that intimidating.”  A slightly uncomfortable pause later, “Am I?”</p><p>Without an easy way to answer – it turned out the number of men who were intimidated by clever women was surprisingly large – Lucy asked instead, “How many times is it now?”</p><p>“This will be four.”  Which was about as many months as Jiya and her mysterious man had been communicating. </p><p>Wary of internet communications with strangers anyway - what exactly was wrong with meeting a person in a café or down a supermarket aisle anyway?- Lucy hadn’t really understood the appeal of Jiya’s chatroom pal at first but it was obvious she was totally enthralled.  Almost every conversation the two women had these days involved some reference to or joke by <em>JasterMereel456</em>.  Even the fact that he was a die-hard Star Wars fan had been forgiven.  So his dodging a meet up again was not going do a smitten Jiya any favours.</p><p>Knowing it was her duty to ask Lucy ventured, “Are you sure he’s not just stringing you along?  I mean, Amy makes me read twenty articles a week about people who pretend to be someone else on the internet…”</p><p>“Nah ah.”  Jiya straightened, shaking her head.  “I did a deep dive.  Got everything but his IP address and a picture.  It all checks out.”  She paused, crestfallen.  “Maybe he isn’t that into me after all.”</p><p>Despite her misgivings Lucy responded honestly.  “Are you kidding?  He made you an app to calculate nanoseconds to help you in your thesis.  That’s not a lack of interest.”</p><p>“Just someone who won’t show up, except between 6pm and 4am six nights a week on my computer screen.”</p><p>Lucy tried not to wince.  “He could be shy?”</p><p>Hope flared briefly before Jiya shook herself and determinedly changed the topic.  “So what’s with the letter?”</p><p>The paper was still in her hand.  The words hadn’t changed unfortunately.  “When Amy talked me into this it was only supposed to be for a couple of weeks.”</p><p>Looking from the note to Lucy and back again, Jiya over-egged an eye roll.  “That’s from the kid your sister hooked you up with as part of her school counselling gig?"  A quick nod.  “You’re still writing to each other?”</p><p>The hairs on Lucy’s neck tingled, heat rising to her cheeks.  “She’s a great kid.  She’s having some trouble settling is all.”  The need to defend not only ‘Rainbow Goddess’ but her own actions had her adding, “She lost her mom and her dad’s relocated them so she’s having to find her feet in a new school and a new town.  From what she says it’s not going so well and I figured…”</p><p>“You wanted to help.”</p><p>Why did it that sound like such a bad thing?  “Of course.”</p><p>“You’re way too nice.”</p><p>“She just needs someone to listen to her.”</p><p>“I thought that was what Amy was there for.”</p><p>Lucy sighed.  “She quit.”</p><p>“No way!”  Jiya exclaimed on a laugh.</p><p>“Apparently all those teenage hormones were interfering with her quest for Zen and she’s got to go spiritually cleanse.”  Which for Amy was a well thought out rationale. </p><p>However Jiya knew Amy too well.  “Translation?”</p><p>“The job sucked and was underpaid but Mom loved it.  And Amy’s hooked up with some guy who’s about to head off to Goa.”  The transient nature of Amy’s world made Lucy shudder.  The two sisters had always been like chalk and cheese; one steady as a rock, the other as flighty as the breeze but both totally devoted to each other.</p><p>Jiya was a bridge between the two worlds.  “Every cloud has a silver lining I guess.  How’s your mom taking it?”</p><p>The gut-twisting nausea that accompanied thoughts of her mother these days took a swipe at Lucy’s insides.  Trying to head off the actual sickness that could take hold Lucy hastily started shuffling papers and attempting to make some sort of order of her desk.  “I have no idea.”</p><p>There were a couple of beats of silence before, “You’re still not talking to her?”</p><p>A kaleidoscope of images raced through Lucy’s mind; the good, the bad and the ugly.  Right that moment the bad and the ugly were heavily dominant.  “Every word she’s ever said to me is a lie.  What am I supposed to say to her that I haven’t already said?”</p><p>Silence lingered. </p><p>The jarring buzz of the alarm on Lucy’s phone made them both jump.  “Oh God.”  Her head fell forward to rest of the large pile of papers she’d collected.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Faculty meeting.”</p><p>“Bummer.”  Jiya stretched and retrieved her bag.  “Do you think the new Professor will be there?  Rumour is he’s hot.”</p><p>Lucy looked up at her friend and then higher, as though asking from help from above.  “You’ve got to stop listening to the gossip at the water fountains.”</p><p>With a quick shake of her head and a smile Jiya took one finger and crossed her heart.  “I promised you I wouldn’t do that anymore.”  But at Lucy’s pointed look confessed, “The queue for the new Pretzel place was long though, and you know how freshmen like to talk.”</p><p>And Jiya would have been stood there in all innocence.  Absolutely not straining to hear every word.  Honest.  “Great.  Just what we need.  Another distraction for the students around here instead of committing to actual work.”</p><p>They both sighed.  It hadn’t mattered to Jiya so much as an under-grad but these days she had office hours herself and convincing people that their degrees were not in ‘excuses that warranted a deadline extension’ was an art form. </p><p>They shuffled towards the door together, Lucy fishing around in her bag until she found her key.  Unfortunately there wasn’t anything in there that might distract from what was about to come.  It had only been two semesters but she knew enough about her colleagues to make her dread the next couple of hours.</p><p>Jiya, either by merit of belonging to a different department or the fact it wasn’t a meeting she had to attend, was less pessimistic about Lucy’s immediate future.  “Do we know anything about him?  Other than the, you know, supposed hotness?”</p><p>“He’s from Eastern Europe.”  The corridor was deserted.  Surely there should still be one or two eager students lurking about?  It wasn’t even five yet.  “Croatia I heard.  Definitely that region.  He specialises in early-modern European history but he’s taken on the last units of military history because of…”  She tailed off.  Wyatt Logan was another bad memory just waiting to pounce.</p><p>“Have you heard from him?”  There was sympathy in Jiya’s voice, a concern Lucy knew was real, but she was all too aware of what Jiya thought of the university’s most recent former professor.</p><p>Play dumb or straight up honesty?  There was no contest really.  “He and Jessica settled into the new house.  The nursery’s going to be yellow.”  There was a photo somewhere of the beaming couple, Jessica round with pregnancy.  Even the thought of it hollowed out something in Lucy’s chest.</p><p>“Geez.  That’s brutal.”  Jiya’s brow lowered ready to slam the man who’d hurt her friend so badly.</p><p>The in-built need to defend others had Lucy trying to justify, “It’s not like that.  He would never deliberately…  Things just got complicated…”</p><p>“Lucy, I love you like a sister but sometimes.”  Dark hair swished from side to side.  “Your ex got back with his wife and is what, calling? writing? emailing? you pictures of their brand new life together.”  Another shake of her head and a friendly hand upon Lucy’s shoulder.  “It’s ok to get a Voodoo doll and stick pins in it you know.”</p><p>“He didn’t know she was pregnant when we got together.”  Although maybe he should have.  Maybe Wyatt could have been more upfront with just how recent his separation had been or how involved his emotions still were.  That way Lucy wouldn’t feel quite so sullied.</p><p>It was obvious Jiya had more to say on the matter but they were approaching the place where their paths diverged.  And it was a conversation best had with drinks and ice-cream and probably Amy.  “Did our ex-professor have any thoughts on his incoming replacement?”  She decided on instead.</p><p>“Wyatt said he’s a ‘smug son-of-a-bitch’.  He also said he’s full of himself and his own importance.”</p><p>With a quick kiss to the cheek Jiya turned in the direction of her building, throwing out over her shoulder, “Well, that’s going to be sooo different from the all other male professors we have here then.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Nineteenth century American history <em>needs</em> to be more female centric!”  Lucy could feel the blood boiling in her veins.  “If women such as Susan B Anthony, Sally Hemings, Mary Ellen Pleasant and Ida B Wells are excluded from the curriculum, or worse added to its footnotes, we malign half of all that’s American.”</p><p>The harmless looking man across from her bared his fangs. “Miss Preston.”  Lucy’s molars clenched.  “I’m sure at Stanford there is a <em>certain</em> way of doing things,” If she gripped her jaw much tighter she’d shatter her teeth.  “But here in the heartlands I think you’ll find that history has survived quite well enough without any … frivolous … additions.”</p><p>Remembering how her erstwhile pen-pal had fared when exploding Lucy reigned in her temper, just a little, and levelled the man with her most chilling stare.  “Of course, history has been taught from its male-centric viewpoint for the last eternity and I’m sure you and my fellow professors would all agree the benefits reaped have been more than sour enough to poison many a well.  If less time had been spent measuring a males place in history by the size of his” <em>don’t say dick, don’t say dick</em>,  “… legacy … and more attention had been paid to those interactions around our leading male historical figures, perhaps we could have spared ourselves conflict and possibly a war or two.”  Her hands shook with the effort of restraint.</p><p>“I think you’ll find that type of feminist liberalism has no place within these walls.”</p><p>Centuries of women screamed in her ears.  “Oh, I promise you these walls can and will withstand much more feminist liberalism than this.” </p><p>“Miss Preston-”</p><p>Lucy opened her mouth to remind the archaic troglodyte that she’d not spent countless years and dollars in education just so that he could call her Miss when another voice spoke up.  The giant of a man who spent most of the meeting crossed armed and almost asleep finally stirred.  </p><p>“Dr Preston might have a point, Keith.  So far the curriculum I’ve been asked to follow is nothing if not narrow.  However.  What she seems to have missed is that this is not Stanford and that certain familial privileges do not direct the courses of study.” </p><p>Lucy’s eyebrows hit her hairline.  Familial privilege?  Was he saying..?</p><p>“Meritocracy is the order of the day here and unfortunately the pool from which our student body is drawn is not quite what Dr Preston has come to expect.  Not a trust fund baby in sight and no rich parents to clear a path.”</p><p>The snickers around the room rang in Lucy’s ears.  Who the hell did this guy think he was?</p><p>Totally unphased by the death glare she was shooting him he continued, “To date, less than forty percent of my classes have been able to correctly identify much more than the Alamo.  While I know several were partial to the previous professor,” He raised an eyebrow at Lucy, his mouth (which until the last minute or two had looked awfully appealing) twisting in what she decided was a very unpleasant way, “His broad stroke teaching practice has instilled a sense of doomed heroism rather than a thirst for knowledge and until students can navigate the complicated world of <em>actual</em> historical facts, I doubt they would be able to comprehend the complexity or nuance female historical figures engender.  Hell, at this point I’d pass the lot if they managed to understand the concept of a domino effect or appeasement.”</p><p>There were a couple of muttered rumblings around the table but they faded into insignificance as Lucy’s temper erupted.  She’d almost killed herself getting where she was today and no one was going to undermine that by repeated the slurs she’d spent the last eighteen months trying to put behind her!  “Contrary to the opinion of <em>some</em> people I worked <em>damn</em> hard for my qualifications and for my position at-”</p><p>“Having met your <em>esteemed</em> mother I don’t doubt it.”  Whatever Carol had done to him had obviously been a doozy.</p><p>But it was so not her problem. </p><p>“And I can assure you, <em>Dr</em> Flynn, that while there may be a dearth of fundamental knowledge in <em>your</em> classes my students are-”</p><p>“These are hardly my classes!  Only an unimaginative clod who wanted to play soldier rather than teach would-”</p><p>“Professor Logan was a highly respected-”</p><p>“For what one has to wonder?”</p><p>Would it be totally unprofessional if she ‘accidentally’ flung the remnants of her drink over him?</p><p>“He-”</p><p>The low thud from the top of the table drew both of their attentions.  A man whose face refused to stick in Lucy’s head but whose tweed jacket lingered looked through them both.  “As acting Head of Department I can say that we are not making any changes to the syllabus at this stage in the year.  Nor are we here to discuss the teaching methods of any who no longer work here.  Dr Flynn, Dr Preston, you are both new so I say this for your benefit.  We stick to what we know in this department.  That’s the way it’s always been and always will be.  Am I understood?”</p><p>They both nodded mutely while pointedly not looking in the others direction.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The campus was quiet by the time Lucy made it to her car.  This campus always seemed to err on the quiet side unless the football team were in action.  Was it wrong to reminisce about the constant hubbub of her former place of employment?  Stanford might not have been her first choice of universities to teach at but it had felt more like home that here.  Until everything exploded.</p><p><em>You are where you are.</em>  Lucy reminded herself firmly.  <em>And no matter what anyone says you got this job on your own merit.  This is a clean slate.</em></p><p>If only the past would stay there. </p><p>Garcia Flynn.  Wyatt had been wrong.  Smug and son-of-a-bitch didn’t do him justice.  Implying she wasn’t good enough for her job?  Suggesting she could only teach those whose parents donated enough to negate actual learning?  And the veiled comments about nepotism?  He had no idea.  Lucy didn’t doubt he’d met her mother but she was just as certain he had no idea of the standards to which she held her daughter.  Even if Lucy won a Nobel Prize it would be viewed as an underachievement.  No matter what people had said there was no way Carol Preston had favoured Lucy because of blood.</p><p>If only the other things Carol had been accused of were as easy to disprove.  If only Lucy had been able to take her father’s name to help her leave all of this behind.  But Carol had even taken that from her.</p><p>With a resolved shake of her head Lucy pulled herself up to her full height.  She would not be defeated by this, this … man.  Or anyone else.  She was Dr Lucy Preston and nothing anyone said could take that achievement away from her.</p><p>The bravery lasted about as long as it took her to recognise the crunch of gravel behind her.  Standing alone in a darkened car park was not clever and pepper spray could only get a girl so far.  But as she turned the enormous shadow approaching had her grinding her teeth rather than shaking in her shoes. </p><p>Of course he was parked in the same place as she was.  What a perfect way to end a crappy day.</p><p>“Dr Preston.”  He nodded, his mouth a thin line, his eyes shadowed in the dark.</p><p>She forced his name out between her teeth.  “Dr Flynn.” </p><p>He’d made it to his car before Lucy opened her mouth again.  “I am not my mother.”  There were several million other things she could have said, including shouting him down for his words in the staff meeting, but those were the ones that her brain commanded.</p><p>The way he stood, so completely still, as the words faded away made her think he wouldn’t respond but he slowly turned, his eyes like chips of ice.  “True.  But you are her daughter.  I don’t know how you avoided the indictment or how you convinced the Dean to offer you this job but I do know I’ll be watching you like a hawk Dr Preston.”  His smile sent tremors bone deep.  “Best watch your step.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Reviews</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Dear History Geek,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m grounded.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>For a MONTH.  Not 28 days either but a whole actual calendar month.  OCD or what?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dad’s taken the TV out of my room.  He’s take my laptop too.  And my phone.  He’s so OLD he hasn’t even worked out my homework is sent electronically.  Bet they sent his home by carrier pigeon. &gt;:(</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The lecture lasted forever.  How he’s ‘disappointed’ in me.  How he ‘expects more’.  What about how disappointed I am?  I never said I wanted to move.  He didn’t even ask me!  I HATE this place.  Stupid suburb.  Stupid block.  Stupid house.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My room sucks.  It’s PINK!  Vomit!  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mom would never have dragged us here.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The only good thing about this place was Uncle R.  I’m not even allowed to see him anymore.  I have to learn to ‘control my temper’ first.  Where does Dad think I get it from huh?  It’s not from Mom.  She never went toe to toe with the doctors or the weaselly looking guy at the door.  That was all him!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He keeps saying I’ll be happier when I make friends.  Like DUH.  That’s why I have a phone?  That’s how people born before the DARK AGES communicate!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seriously, I think I’m losing it.  The walls feel like they’re closing in on me here.  I just want to go home.  See my friends.  Check on the roses my mom and I planted.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How old do you have to be to divorce your parent do you think?  I think 13 is plenty old enough.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I might write a couple more times if that’s ok?  Unless he bans me from using a pen and paper.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Yours from purgatory,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rainbow Goddess</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Have you heard?”</p><p>Having heard many things, most probably not what Jiya was referring to, Lucy mutely shook her head, nudging a cooling cup across the table.</p><p>“Honestly!  It’s about your department and you don’t already know?”</p><p>That pricked Lucy’s ears up.  Had Flynn quit?  No.  He wasn’t the type.  Maybe he’d been fired?  Lucy could easily picture him saying something unforgivable that had brought about his marching orders.  She took a moment of perverse pleasure imagining him carrying a lone cardboard box out the door before Jiya gave a reality check.</p><p>“Halbrook didn’t get the job.”  Using a spoon to push the foam aside Jiya took a tentative sip.  “Apparently the Dean’s gone out of house to fill the Department Head position and, according to my sources, Halbrook hit the roof.”</p><p>That the tweed jacket wouldn’t take too kindly to being overlooked Lucy was sure.  “Do you know who’s replacing him?” </p><p>Jiya leaned forwards to whisper, sotto voice, with a smile dying to break free, “A woman!”</p><p>It was a surprise Acting Department Head Halbrook hadn’t keeled over on the spot. </p><p>“Really?”  Now that was news.  New female blood could shake up the history department no end.  She might even let Lucy teach the more progressive syllabus she’d always dreamed of.  “Where do you get this stuff from?” </p><p>Opening her mouth to reveal her source Jiya promptly snapped it shut again.  “You first.”</p><p>If Lucy knew who Jiya’s source was she’d hardly be asking.  Did Jiya think she knew something else?  “I’m always the last to know.  You have to tell me everything.”</p><p>“Not everything.”  An almost sly smile lifted Jiya’s cheeks making her look just a little too wicked.  The only times she looked like that was when…</p><p>“Oh.”  A tall silhouette tried to rise in Lucy’s mind, large and imposing.  “No.”  The way he’d lounged back in the meeting, muscles at ease but so obviously there framed as they were by the fitted shirt that casually had the top two buttons undone so that every time he swallowed…  “Not going there.”</p><p>“Spoilt sport.”</p><p>“There’s nothing to say.”  Although more than once last night Lucy had felt her eyes drawn towards his softly styled dark hair, his sharply chiselled features.  Until he’d opened his mouth that was.</p><p>Jiya held her eyes across the rim of her cup.  “You’ve got that prim, pissed off look going on again so there’s something.”</p><p>“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  A flush tried to creep across her cheekbones but Lucy valiantly ignored it, choosing instead to drink from her own beverage.  “Is it me or are there more students in the café than ever attend lectures?”</p><p>“Give it a rest.”  On an outright laugh Jiya playfully knocked Lucy’s calf with her foot.  “I saw our new professor across the square this morning Lucy.  Unless you’ve finally decide to fully convert to women you noticed him too.  Now spill.”</p><p>Lucy inhaled sharply.  “He’s very tall.”  And moody and a complete and utter arse.</p><p>“Details.”</p><p>She searched around for something polite.  “He has an accent.”</p><p>Jiya studied her for a minute, head tilted, lips pouted, eyes assessing, before she carefully placed her drink down.  “The way you’re acting has me wondering…”  She started slowly.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Leaning in close she whispered, “You’d tell me if you ended up in bed together right?”</p><p>“Jiya!”</p><p>Disappointment flashed but Jiya would not be defeated.  “So he didn’t make your pulse flicker?  Not even a little?”</p><p>Lucy’s pulse had been pounding alright.  But not from that.  He was rude and insulting.  He would seriously benefit from a sharp slap across the mouth.  So what if he had enormous hands with beautifully tapered fingers that moved when he spoke?  Rude and insulting she reminded herself.  “Dr Flynn has a certain … air … about him that might be considered attractive but as soon as he opens his mouth any attractive features he may have rapidly disappear.”</p><p>“Ooh.  What did he say?”  Of course that would only make Jiya more interested.</p><p>“You’re worse than Amy!”</p><p>On a shrug the other woman drained her cup.  “She’d have bypassed you and be asking him by now.”</p><p>Wasn’t that the truth!  Still, Lucy was reluctant to recount Flynn’s words in the carpark.  “He has issues.  With my being a Preston.”</p><p>“He knows about your mom?”  Jiya’s eyebrows raised. </p><p>“From the way he spoke he’s met her in person.”</p><p>There was a painful wince from across the table.  “And?”</p><p>He’d tarred her with the same brush without any facts?  He’d jumped to conclusions based on a prejudice he harboured towards a woman who Lucy hadn’t been in contact with for months?  “He didn’t say.”  Given what Lucy now knew about Carol Preston though, “I’m guessing it was bad.”</p><p>“But he knows you were cleared of all of that?”</p><p>What Dr Flynn knew and what he believed were very separate things.  “I’m not sure that news has filtered down to him just yet.”</p><p>“So tell him.”  It sounded so simple. </p><p>“I told him I wasn’t her.”  At the nod from her friend she added, “He wasn’t convinced.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>After Jiya’s news the call to the second faculty meeting of the week wasn’t much of a surprise.  For the first time in a long time Lucy felt almost optimistic as she approached the meeting room, buoyed by thoughts of another female in the department.  As she was first she had her pick of the seats and chose one near the centre of the large table; not too close, not too far away.  The best position to observe. </p><p>Would this new Department Head be as progressive as she hoped?  Open to a new direction?  Would she be someone Lucy had heard of before?  There were several options that could easy trip off Lucy’s tongue.</p><p>Other professors filed in, in various states of annoyance and curiosity.  Some had made an effort to look less mouldy, others, most notably Flynn, made it just before the new Head of Department arrived.  He scowled darkly as he saw the last seat was the one directly across from Lucy. </p><p>Let him frown.  Wretched man.  It wasn’t Lucy’s fault he’d arrived at the last minute.  She smiled her best <em>screw</em>-<em>you</em> smile at him, daring him to ask to swap with someone to be further away.</p><p>“Sit.”  A tallish woman of Indian decent instructed as several chairs scraped back on her entrance.  From the top of her groomed head, down through her sharp suit and onto her practically classic court shoes she screamed efficiency.  “Let’s get this over with.  My name is Denise Christopher.  I have as many letters after my name as all of you.  More than some.  This is my second career.  I was not hired to fill a quota.  Questions?”</p><p>A pin drop would have seemed loud.</p><p>Several of the older professors looked as though they’d just watched the end of the universe.</p><p>“Good.  The Dean hired me to shake things up around here so that’s what I’m going to do.”  She made eye contact with each individual.  “The syllabus is stagnating.  Lecture feedback is less than inspiring.  Our overall rating as a department is mediocre.  That changes now people.  We can’t fix the syllabus until after the summer vacation but we can start working on other things.  I want an overview of every area you teach on my desk by five on Friday.  I want to know about your teaching assistants, what technology you use, the average number of attendees for your lectures and the requirements for your seminars.”</p><p>A large undertone of grumbles ensued but Professor Christopher waited it out, staring down the more persistent offenders.  “As of Monday we’re starting peer reviews.  I’ll post this month’s pairing on the notice board and I expect to be copied in on written feedback.  Any problems?” </p><p>Most of the room didn’t know what had hit it. </p><p>“Is there a template for the critique?”  Flynn’s voice dragged across Lucy’s nerves.</p><p>Dr Christopher made a note on her phone, sizing Flynn up and nodding approvingly, “It will be in in-boxes by 9am tomorrow morning.” </p><p>Not wanting Flynn to get all the brownie points Lucy asked, “And what scope do we have to comment?”</p><p>“Two positives for every negative.  I’m not looking to throw the baby out with the bath water here, just to see what methods we’re employing and how they make others react.  This is meant to be an informative learning experience.”  Denise eyed her the same way as she had Flynn, a spark of recognition flashing briefly.  “Anything else?”</p><p>There was a wall of silence.</p><p>“Good.  That’s a wrap folks.  Same time, same place next week.”</p><p>The echo of her heels reverberated decisively.</p><p>The longest serving in the department blustered.  Several who had never ventured to another institute looked as though a revelation was close.  Flynn who’d taken to playing with his phone on the new boss’s exit slid it back into his pocket, a not exactly pleasant smile playing around his mouth.</p><p>“Your lesson plans are up to date I hope?”  His faux innocent question could have been for anyone but Lucy knew she was the intended audience.</p><p>She smiled as sweetly as she could, channelling saccrine.  “Naturally.  And yours?”</p><p>“Naturally.”  He mimicked, his smile growing wolfish to reveal a flash of even, white teeth. “It looks like we’re in for an interesting semester.” </p><p>Lucy snapped her Filofax shut, staring him down, refusing to be the first to look away.  “Absolutely.”</p><p>He stood as she did, holding the door as she left before him.  “Our agreement is a one-time event I hope?” </p><p>Giving a quick bob of her head Lucy began to walk in the opposite direction.  “That’s a fair assessment.”  Because there was nothing else in this universe they were likely to agree about as far as Lucy could see.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Slow down!”  Jiya was jogging backwards just as comfortably as she jogged forwards which made the whole thing that bit more humiliating.  “Aren’t you supposed to be an unfit tech nerd?”</p><p>Not even slightly out of breath Jiya sing-songed, “My body is a temple.”  And, as if to prove the point, swung her plait over her shoulder, turned and sprinted the next fifty feet. </p><p>“Oh please!  I’ve seen you chug a litre of rocky road ice-cream as though it was milk.”</p><p>This time Jiya did stop but only to waggle her eyebrows.  “All temples deserve to be worshiped in their own way.”</p><p>Lucy was tired and hot and sticky.  Damn but she hated running.  Even if it was a necessary evil of staying in shape.  Maybe she should try hot yoga or something?  Amy was always banging on about its double benefits.  Anything had to be better than panting around the park like this.  “What’s put you in such a good mood anyway?”</p><p>Running back and lifting her leg back to do cool down stretches the younger woman claimed, “The birds are singing, the evenings are lighter, the smell of summer is just around the corner…”</p><p>“Those things mean nothing to you.”  Lucy pushed the sweaty hair off her brow, thinking fast.  For the past two days Jiya had been brooding.  Clicking her clicky pen and over thinking.  Then all of a sudden, “This has to do with the <em>Jaster</em> man.”</p><p>“So over it.”  The confident throw away answer was too well rehearsed.</p><p>“You can be such a bad liar at times.”</p><p>Jiya paused.  She looked around to make sure no one was within ear shot.  “Ok, I’m not over it but I have a plan.”</p><p>Lucy didn’t know whether to be happy for her or worried.</p><p>“He’s a gamer right?”  Jiya’s hands moved Lucy through some basic stretches before she linked their elbows and turned them for home.  “That’s how we got talking.”</p><p>“The plan’s not obvious yet Jiya.”  Although knowing Jiya it would be something devious.  Maybe deviant.</p><p>Looking far too fresh for someone who’d just run the best part of three miles Jiya tutted. “I’m going to invite him – as friends - to join the latest game roll out next week.  Then I’m going to totally annihilate him.”</p><p>It might make her feel better but… “And that will fix things because..?”</p><p>“Because when I win without even trying he’s going to demand a rematch and then I play my trump card.”  Oh yeah.  Devious <em>and</em> deviant.  Double trouble.</p><p>Just because Lucy could see the machinations didn’t mean she understood.  “We’re still not on the quite the same page.” </p><p>Tugging Lucy to a bench so she could bend to tie a shoe lace, Jiya looked up with a mile-wide smile.  “The rematch will have to take place somewhere on campus as the game I’m going to suggest is only in its beta testing stage.”</p><p>Bingo.  “The university had a hand in making this game didn’t it?”</p><p>“Unless <em>JasterMereel456</em> wants losing and crying like a baby over it to be what I type onto every platform he visits forever he’ll be forced to show up!”</p><p>The plan had potential but, “One problem.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“What if he wins?”  Not that Lucy doubted Jiya’s gaming ability but from what she’d said about her mysterious man…</p><p>“Never going to happen.”</p><p>“You’re good Jiya but-”</p><p>“Never going to happen Lucy.”  At her questioning look, “I wrote half the code for this game so unless he did the other half he’s out of luck.”</p><p>Mental note.  Never cross Jiya on a mission.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Dr Christopher?”  Lucy called as she popped her head around the door to the office later in the week.  The room was large and airy even if there were a couple of boxes pushed to one side waiting to be unpacked.  The only other time she’d been in here it had seemed dark and oppressive but the new Department Head had obviously been busy.</p><p>“Dr Preston.  Come in, come in.”  Seated behind the desk Christopher still looked like a force to be reckoned with.  She waved Lucy to a chair placed very deliberately and lent back.  “How have your first two terms been?  Have you settled in?”  Her directness was refreshing if a little unnerving. </p><p>“It was a big change but I’m happy to be here.”  Lucy tried to be as honest as she could.  And she was happy.  Now.  Mostly.</p><p>Looking though a file in front of her Dr Christopher traced a pertinent point with her forefinger before looking up.  “I imagine the change from Stanford was quite challenging?”</p><p>Lucy had a horrible idea she knew where this was going.  “I’d say refreshing.”  She managed with dignity.</p><p>Christopher sighed and clicked her lips.  “There is no easy way to say this so I’ll just come right out with it.  The Dean made me aware of the circumstances of your arrival.  He is sure that the actions taken by your mother were her doing and hers alone.  I wanted to look you in the eye when I asked you if he’s right.”</p><p>Was it going to be like this forever?  Was it so wrong to hope that she only needed to be exonerated once?  “The America Historical Association have reviewed my research, my notes, my drafts and any other documentation they requested and found me to be completely innocent of any plagiarism charges.  Is that not proof enough?”  She desperately wanted to keep the defensiveness out of her voice but there was only so many times she could say the same thing.  Her new start suddenly looked highly tenuous.</p><p>Tapping the desk her new boss nodded slowly.  “Indeed.  And the primary sources?”</p><p>The icy-cold wave of fury Lucy had felt when she learnt about her mother’s actions doused Lucy again.  She didn’t have to think before she opened her mouth.  “If I had known… If I had even suspected that my mother was destroying…”  It made her sick just to think of it.  “I would have reported her myself before I allowed her to doctor primary, secondary or any other sources to fit her own arguments.”</p><p>Another slow nod.  “And the other charges?”</p><p>Those did not bring fury.  They brought a surrealism from which Lucy doubted she might ever wake.  “I have no answer for you.”  Just like she’d had no answer for the police that had shown up at the door at 5am with a search warrant.  No answer when she’d sat in the interview room and been asked about a man named Benjamin Cahill.  No answer when she’d seen the photographs of the violence her mother and that man were supposedly involved in.</p><p>“It must have been difficult to make such a big adjustment in all areas of your life at once.”</p><p>She’d had Amy.  They’d had each other.  She’d held onto the knowledge that her father had been completely oblivious to her mother’s true character.  At least until she found out he wasn’t her father at all.  “I haven’t spoken to my mother in over a year if this is what you’re asking me.”</p><p>The older woman held out a conciliatory hand.  “You understand I had to ask?”</p><p>Lucy took it, gripping firmly and shaking.  “And you understand that I will not be held responsible for the actions of others now or ever.”  Even if she did feel guilt by association.</p><p>Christopher smiled wanly.  “You and I are going to get along famously Dr Preston.  I can tell.” </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Peer reviews.  Not Lucy’s most favourite pass-time.  But doable. </p><p>It didn’t take a genius to work out what the old guard would make of her style of teaching.  Some of the things she said might give them a heart attack.  Still.  She could make it work.  Tone it down here and there.  It shouldn’t be too bad.  With any luck Dr Christopher would see where any negative feedback came from and understand it as a reaction to change rather than a lack of quality teaching. </p><p>Yes.  Lucy could do this.  It was going to be good.  Things were going to get better.</p><p>Or so it seemed until Monday morning.  When she read who her partner was.</p><p>Dr Garcia Flynn.</p><p>That had to be a typo right?  His name was on the wrong line.  No way the two newest members of the faculty would be paired with each other.  But there it was.  In black and white.  Every member connected until only her name and his were left.</p><p>Well just … shit.</p><p>A neatly typed line beneath the list explained that the professors were invited to attend one another’s lectures at their liberty.  No prearrangement required.</p><p>Shit, shit, shitty, shit, shit.</p><p>He could show up at any minute.  Just drop in and then…</p><p>Lucy could picture it in her mind.  She’d see him and lose the thread of the lecture.  Stumble over her words while his cruel smile got bigger and bigger.  It wouldn’t have anything to do with that little catch in her breath when he came into the room of course.  It would be because she could already hear his smug drawl explaining that as a positive she at least knew the names of the people she taught about but…</p><p>This wouldn’t do at all.</p><p>The rest of Monday was painful anticipation that came to nothing.  Her night was taunted by dreams of Flynn’s shadow edging ever closer.  Tuesday caught her in much the same manner, her bed sheets a twisted mess by dawn, her body over-heated and edgy.  Wednesday was spent on tenterhooks expecting to see him whenever she looked up.  Every time she caught a glimpse of dark hair, the breadth of a shoulder, she felt her mouth go dry.  By Thursday she’d given herself more pep-talks than anyone of her age necessarily needed but she was ready.  Able.  Not going to be left hanging and waiting.  That day passed without even a murmur too.</p><p>Friday was clear and true.  Every lecture sailed along.  She’d stopped looking at the back of the lecture halls.  Stopped dreading seeing him sat in the front row.  Part of her suspected Flynn planned to write his review without ever attending anything she taught.  Only a sadist would attend the four-thirty lecture on a Friday night so she was in the clear for this week at least. </p><p>“There’s Yul Brynner, who’s reprised his award winning broadway role, stood across from Rita Mureno who’s performing the play within a play.  The whole production is running full tilt as the sound effect department outdo themselves and all of a sudden everything stops.  Total silence.  A power cut thanks to a technical fault in the sound stage next door.  Mureno, who’d been one bar away from her next verse, is stood with her mouth open in what she later described as one of her less flattering poses.  The director screams ‘cut!’ and a wall of groans rise up.  They’ve been filming for the fifteen hours.  The set up for <em>this</em> scene took three hours alone and no-one but no-one wants to have to restart the reel.  Out of nowhere Brynner laughs in character, turns to Deborah Kerr and says, “And this is the reason we study the writing of Harriet Beecher Stowe is it not Mrs Leonowens?  To prepare our great nation for hardship!”  He does his laugh again then jumps onto the constructed stage and dives through the painted cabin door.”</p><p>The image behind Lucy dissolved into a ten second video of Brynner in full <em>King and I</em> costume performing acrobatic jumps from table to table.  Several chortles of laugher greeted the images as the rustle of people packing up began. </p><p>“Remember, your short paper on the impact of <em>Uncle Tom’s Cabin</em> on the perceptions of slavery at the time of its release is due Thursday.  Office hours are posted on my door.  Feel free to email your ideas if you’re struggling.”</p><p>One by one people began to file out until Lucy was left alone in the auditorium, unplugging her laptop and gathering her notes. </p><p>“The historical importance of Hollywood’s take on a nineteenth century piece of fiction might be stretching the remit of your teaching don’t you think?”</p><p>The lazy drawl came from far to close at hand, the moment Lucy had been dreading all week apparently nigh.  She pulled in a stiffening breath, squared off her shoulders and turned to see Flynn leaning indolently against the railings leading up to the back of the hall.</p><p>“You think my class would have been more engaged if I’d asked them to spend the weekend reading up on the failed approaches of Brooke Farm or the somewhat divisive writings of William Garrison?  In their last lecture of the week?  A short film excerpt as a lead into their essay gives them a positive place to spring from.”  Had he been hiding in the gloom for her whole lecture?  Had she said anything she was going to live to regret?</p><p>“You’re going to get fifty essays on Tuptim’s abridged version of Beecher Stowe’s novel.”</p><p>Lucy concentrated on clicking her laptop bag shut and swinging it over her shoulder.  Whatever she’d said it was too late to undo it now and the last thing she needed to do now was get clumsy.   “You have too little faith in our students Dr Flynn.” </p><p>“And you have too much.”</p><p>His legs were considerably longer than hers but he matched her stride for stride to the door.  His proximity was doing funny things to her knees.  Hadn’t he heard of personal space?  “I’d be sure to mention that in your feedback report.  I’m sure Dr Christopher would love to hear your views on the student body.”</p><p>Reaching out an arm he held open the door, ensuring that she’d have to pass underneath to exit the room.  Lucy’s heart kicked up a notch.  “I rather thought she’d be more interested in your use of James Buchanan’s indentured servants in a slave free state.  It was quite a swipe at the nature of the political beast don’t you think?”</p><p>Okay.  Maybe Lucy had allowed her personal opinion of politicians to influence the part of the lecture about slavery being more of a political tool than a concern of the masses at the time but she stood by her statements.  “You think Buchanan buying his sisters slaves to ostensibly free them so he looked good to both sides but in actuality binding them to him in service for years wasn’t political?”</p><p>Using the small pique as an impetus to move she stepped closer and ducked under his arm.</p><p>“It was a masterstroke in student engagement Lucy.”  His breath whispered across her skin as she passed, the way her name sounded on his lips causing a convulsive shiver to slide down her spine.</p><p>Shocked, she turned to look at him, trying to work out her reaction but he was gone.  The door swung closed quietly where Flynn had once stood.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>While the King and I is a 1956 film the scene I wrote about is entirely fictitious.  I have no doubt Brynner slipped in an out of character on a whim as he played the role so often but as far as I'm aware that paragraph never happened.  Let's call it creative licence.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Wrong Turns</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Dear History Geek,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This is massive.  Like OMG massive.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>We’re getting a dog!  Can you believe it?  When Dad told me I almost fell off my seat.  I used to ask for a puppy EVERY birthday and Christmas and now we’re finally getting one.  Squee.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ok.  Not exactly a puppy but it’s still a dog.  And he’s going to be my dog.  I’m going to walk him and feed him and play with him.  I’m so excited!!!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dad says he’s going to take care of me when I’m home alone after school.  He has to live in a kennel outside but I can work with that.  I’ve already started to design what it should look like.  Do you think it needs to have two rooms or three?  I’m going to help Dad build it at the weekend so that we’re ready for the new arrival.  What do you think of the name Mason?  Dad suggested Marco but there’s a boy in my class called that so that’s no good. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>When we were talking about what breed we were going to get (a Beauceron) my dad actually smiled.  He used to smile a lot but that kind of stopped when Mom got sick.  I think he’s been stressing a lot since we moved too.  He’s got a new job and my Home Room teacher says that can be very stressful.  What does stress feel like?  Is it all the same or are there different types because I get this squiggly feeling in my stomach when I forget to do my homework or we get a pop quiz but I can’t see Dad feeling the same way about going to work.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He has been more grumpy lately though.  He hits the keys on his keyboard REALLY hard when he’s cross so there’s totally something bugging him.  I thought it was me but he says it isn’t.  He took me out for a milkshake to prove it (and said I didn’t have to be grounded anymore so long as I didn’t swear at adults).</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When I got home from school yesterday I saw the Men in Black leaving so maybe it’s them.  Dad doesn’t know I saw them.  He gets sort of funny when I mention them so I just don’t anymore.  Come to think of it, if they are the MiB does that make Dad an alien?  It would explain soooo much!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’ll send pictures of Mason just as soon as we pick him up.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rainbow Goddess</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“You can’t say that!”</p><p>Flynn raised an eyebrow and flashed his teeth.  His deft fingers made short work of removing the pen lid.  “I think,” the cross of the T, “you’ll find,” a dot of the I, “I can.”</p><p>“I want it noted that I do not agree with this!”  Lucy itched to snatch the offending tool from his hand to scribble out the words.  She ended up her clenching her fists instead.</p><p>“Dr Preston,” Flynn’s tongue settled between his teeth, “does not agree that an armadillo has a better understanding of the American role in the war of 1812.”</p><p>“Dr Flynn!”  Surely he didn’t mean to hand that back to a student?</p><p>“Dr Preston!”  He drawled right back.</p><p>Sometimes Lucy wondered if she’d imagined him calling her by her first name.  She had serious doubts she’d heard praise issue from his lips.  Had it all been a delirious dream?</p><p>For the past three weeks every encounter had been barbed.  Every look spiked.  Every idea opposed.  Flynn used her name like an insult and if it wasn’t for the fact violence rarely solved a problem Lucy would quite happily have strapped him to a chair and slapped him senseless.</p><p>Dr Christopher’s influence on the department was absolute and immediate.  She’d spoken to everyone about their preferred curriculum, reviewed their area knowledge and, today, she’d dedicated to moderated marking.  Not that Lucy was fond of many in the department but why she had to partner up with Flynn again was beyond her.  The vast waves of misogynism lingering in the air she suspected but was sorely tempted to wonder if the general hatred of women wasn’t outweighed by the obvious loathing of this one man for her and her alone.</p><p>Before the meeting she’d seen him speaking civilly, convivially, with Dr Christopher.  He’d actually smiled.  A genuine smile.  Now there was a revelation Lucy could have done without.  She still got tingles thinking about it.</p><p>“Perhaps Mr,” Lucy snatched up the paper and searched for the name, “Davis feels differently about American involvement.  That’s not a crime.”</p><p>Flynn peered down his nose at her, distain dripping from every pore.  “True.  However suggesting that Jean Laffite had an intrinsic role in defeating the British and that his impetus to do so was the love of a good woman, al la <em>The Buccaneer</em> plot, does sway the argument into the realms of fantasy.”</p><p>How was she supposed to defend students whose version of research was entering key words into a search engine and watching the first film that fit the criteria?</p><p>“There has to be a better way of phrasing it.”  There simply had to be.  Flynn’s way was so … brutal.</p><p>“You want me to dress it up in a nice neat bow?  A spade is a spade Dr Preston and the sooner some of these students find that out the better.”</p><p>Waving the paper in his face Lucy pointed out the large red letter at the top.  “Don’t you think the great big F gave it away?”</p><p>“An F is a letter.  People can argue with letters or pretend never to have seen them.  I find that pertinent comments help focus the mind.”  Collecting the other essays together Flynn used a bull clip to keep them neat before slotting them back into his briefcase.</p><p>In a much messier manner Lucy did the same to her papers.  “They destroy confidence you mean?”</p><p>“Are you suggesting that my comments are not constructive Dr Preston?” </p><p>They were certainly something.  “They’re too blunt.”</p><p>His nostrils flared as his eyes narrowed dangerously.  “A student who tries to pass off a half-assed essay as gospel and expects a passing grade requires a very direct type of feedback.”  Lucy opened her mouth to disagree, “What would you do?  If your student handed in work of this … calibre?”</p><p>Lucy would be mortified that the best the student had got from her teaching was a desire to write a thoughtless, throw away paper.  “I’d invite them to a meeting.”  That sounded constructive.  “So that we could discuss the work and any other issues the student was having.”</p><p>He made a study of her face, taking in her heightened colour, doing his level best not to smile.  “You’d give them the chance to construct a sob story.”  He concluded slowly, something that sounded awfully like surprise filling his tone.  “Why, Dr Preston, you are possibly too nice for your own good.” </p><p>Lucy’s breath caught.  Was he being nice to her? </p><p>“Despite all evidence to the contrary.”  Nope.  Spoke too soon.</p><p>“I just think there might be more to the poor quality work than meets the eye.  I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.”  Lucy pushed the weight of her hair off her shoulder and resisted the urge to lash him with it as she stood.  Flynn’s insufferable presence was enough to have her doing dumb things rather than focusing on where her feet were going.</p><p>“Au contraire.” </p><p>The smug denial had Lucy sucking in air through her teeth.  “Excuse me?”</p><p>He stood too so that she had to look up and up again for her answer.  “You’re telling me you didn’t have a pre-conceived notion of who I was?”</p><p>Where did this guy get off?  As if she’d spent more than a minute – two max – thinking about him.  “I gave you the benefit of the doubt right up until the moment you started implying that I was a substandard teacher who relied on family connections to get a job!”</p><p>He shrugged that off although the corner of his eye twitched.  Was it possible the haughty Garcia Flynn looked little abashed?  No.  Lucy must be seeing things. </p><p>“I’m sure Professor Logan had a thing or two to say about me before he left.”</p><p>The memory of Wyatt stood in her office doorway, looking uncomfortable but self-righteous, giving her the low down on his replacement, jumped up at her.  When had he gone from being an ever present shadow in her mind to a half forgotten thought?  She could still picture the brown hair, the blue eyes, but the image had a kind of flat quality to it, like an old photo, and the twist inside that usually came wasn’t there, as though the whole sorry episode had happened years ago.</p><p>“He wasn’t your biggest fan.”  Lucy conceded, not certain what Flynn was getting at now.</p><p>They moved to the door together, Flynn turning with her and matching her pace along the corridor.  “The feeling’s mutual.”  He confessed out of nowhere.</p><p>Lucy stopped and stared.  Why was he telling her this?</p><p>Realising she wasn’t keeping up he halted too, explaining, “I got sent one of his papers to review.”  Ah, Wyatt’s irritation at the other professor suddenly made more sense.  “It was vague and woolly, not to mention insulting to the entire of Europe in its assertions of American dominance in the conflict he covered.”  If Flynn’s remarks to his students were anything to go by he’d well and truly roasted Wyatt.  “He didn’t appreciate my candour.”</p><p>“No kidding.”  Lucy’s step felt lighter when she moved again, as though something had shifted ever so slightly. </p><p>They made it all the way to her office in an almost comfortable silence and, despite her present company – surely not because of it – Lucy didn’t feel inclined to escape inside the room just yet.  So they stood there, face to face, neither sure what to say or do next.</p><p>It was the oddest staring competition she’d ever been involved in.</p><p>Flynn broke first.  “For better or worse history can’t be undone.  Ever since I learned about the events that shaped my country I’ve felt a responsibility for representing them – and all history – in the truest, most honest form.  Students – or teachers – who fail to do this let down those who’s memories only remain in the documents we hold, the objects that have survived and the recounts that are left.  If I’m too blunt with those people blame it on that thirst for honesty, that need to understand and represent those who have gone before without prejudice, bias or a lack of care.”</p><p>Lucy could do nothing but continue to stare as sincerity radiated across the space, confusion and something else tangling her brain.  “You really care.”</p><p>His lips lifted in a corner.  “Don’t worry.  I try not to make a habit of it.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The slamming of cupboard doors conveyed Jiya’s frustrations just as well as her disembodied voice.</p><p>“Still no luck?”  Lucy hated to bring up the ‘big bad’ but her friend had been MIA for almost a month now, holed up as she was in her computer lab, and the way she was stomping around suggested that wasn’t coming to an end any time soon.</p><p>“Hang on.”  There was a scrambling sound on the other end of the line.  “Where’s the fricking – ouch.”</p><p>“Jiya?”</p><p>A wave of colourful obscenities – some English, some not so much – issued loudly enough that Lucy had to hold the phone away from her ear.  “Stubbed my toe.”  A pained voice explained.</p><p>Having done that more than her fair share of times Lucy could sympathise.  “Should I ask on what?”</p><p>“I just don’t get it.”</p><p>“Your toe?”</p><p>There was a huff and what Lucy guessed to be the sound of Jiya’s chair as she bounced back onto it.  “No.  The game.  The code.  It was working!  It was fine and running and then, boom.”</p><p>“Boom?”  That didn’t sound good.  “Did something blow up?  Are you ok?”</p><p>“Lucy.”  Her exasperation was plain.  “The code didn’t blow up.  It just stopped running.  Input error.  Rufus and I must have been through it about a million times.  There’s nothing wrong!”</p><p>Ah.  That made more sense.  Quickly putting the rest of the pieces together Lucy suggested, “Until you try and play it?”</p><p>“Yeah.”  There was a muffled scream.  “This is so frustrating!”</p><p>There was nothing she could do on the tech side but outside the office … “Maybe you should give it a rest.  Get some fresh air or-”</p><p>Another huff reached her ears then a bone-weary sigh.  “That’s what Rufus said.  Come back to it fresh.  I just…”</p><p>“You had a plan.” </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Lucy wished she could give her friend a hug but until Jiya was ready she was just going to have to wait it out.  “Have you heard from <em>him</em>?”</p><p>There was a long pause before she got her answer.  “We’re chatting.  He was really good about the game not working.  He’s even suggested a couple of things that might help but I wanted-”</p><p>That was the thing about Jiya’s plans.  They were brilliant and the nine times out of ten they worked the results were something to see.  But the tenth time she was left heartbroken.  Doubly so now that she hadn’t managed to get her online beau into the real world. </p><p>“Have you spoken to Rufus about him?  You know, got a male point of view, someone from the same community?”  Jiya and Rufus had been in the same department for a couple of years.  To Lucy’s mind they seemed really close.</p><p>“We’ve spoken.”  A pause for a correction.  “<em>I’ve</em> spoken.”  Jiya’s voice dropped to almost a whisper.  “That’s the problem.  Rufus is great.  He’s always been great but he never speaks to me.”</p><p>“He always passes the time of day when I’ve met him.  And he’s kind of cute.”</p><p>“Oh, he is!  He knows stuff about so many things and when you can get him to talk he’s super interesting.  And he’s funny.  He supports his mom and younger brother.  Did I tell you that?”</p><p>Thinking back Jiya had mentioned a lot about Rufus in the past, although that wasn’t as frequent now that the <em>Jaster</em> person was in the picture.  “So why aren’t you pursuing more with him?  No spark?”</p><p>The telephone line became muffled and Lucy thought she caught a ‘sure’ before Jiya came back on the line in low tones.  “There’s spark.  Lots of sparks.  But whenever I start a conversation about anything other than computers, games or sci-fi he high-tails it out of here faster than you can say Yippee Ki-yay!  I swear one day he almost climbed over the terminals to get away from me.”</p><p>Lucy tried hard to smother a laugh.</p><p>Jiya mumbled something else, presumably to whoever was left in the office with her.  “I’d love to give it a shot but I’m scared I’ll break him and he won’t ever come back!  That’s why <em>JasterMereel456</em> is perfect.  He’s everything Rufus is but he’s also articulate in areas Rufus vanishes on.”</p><p>Rufus did have one major advantage in Lucy’s eyes though.  “But your online guy won’t show up.  And you don’t know what he looks like.  What if the real reason he won’t show up is because he’s actually a ninety-five year old pretending to be someone younger?”</p><p>“Amy’s been internet scaring you again hasn’t she?”</p><p>“There was this one article-”</p><p>Jiya finally found her happy place, her smile back in her voice.  “She’s winding you up Lucy.  She knows you’re afraid and she’s playing with you.” </p><p>Knowing Amy that was probably true.  Still, “You wouldn’t feel better if you could pick this guy out in a crowd?”</p><p>“I want to!  I want to know everything about him that he doesn’t type on the screen.  That’s why I need this blasted game to work so I can get him to show the hell up!” </p><p>Deciding it was best to try and turn the conversation, Lucy filled Jiya in on her moderation disaster and the reactions of the more crusty of history professors to the new way things were being done in the department.  She was just about to recount how Halbrook had spit his dummy out when he was told he’s have to teach about the Native American side of the story in Custer’s last stand when she caught a familiar face across the quad.</p><p>Professor Flynn didn’t look grumpy today.  Or earnest.  Or ready to contest every single thing she said.  He looked down right uncomfortable and following the direction of his gaze Lucy could see why.  A chuckle escaped her.</p><p>“What?”  Jiya’s ears had practically perked up across the call.</p><p>Now Flynn was turning to head off in on a different tangent but the person he was so obviously hoping to avoid corrected course to stay with him.  Served him right. </p><p>“Nothing.”  Lucy tried in her most innocent voice.</p><p>“You’re far too happy about something all of a sudden.  Spill.”</p><p>Oh this was too good.  Flynn, looking frazzled around the edges, was striding quickly in her direction but his interceptor was cutting across the grass.  No way was he going to avoid the meeting.  In fact, if Lucy just stood where she was she’d be in for front row seats to this car crash. </p><p>“I just spotted Dr Flynn across the quad.”  He was looking around almost desperately.  Poor baby.</p><p>“And that made you chuckle?  Interesting.” </p><p>Oops.  Keeping the scene to herself was obviously providing too much scope for Jiya’s fertile imagination.  Usually that twisted and turned for a while but always ended up with some convoluted theory about Lucy’s sex life.  With her eyes fixed on Flynn, on the stretch and drop of his clothes as he moved, on the way he was so at ease in his own skin even while trying to avoid an uncomfortable situation, Lucy felt her cheeks flare.  She had to shut Jiya down right now. </p><p>“Not interesting.”  She had to cough to clear the huskiness from her voice.  “Amusing.  My cranky colleague, despite his best efforts, is about to be accosted by our good friend Emma.”</p><p>“Whitmore?”  It was Jiya’s turn to laugh.  “His day’s about to get a whole lot worse then.”</p><p>Lucy tried hard not to let her mouth fall open as the aforementioned Emma finally reached Flynn, said something and at his reaction puckered her mouth.  “My God, I think she’s trying to pout.”</p><p>“Wait?  What?”</p><p>The redhead tossed her hair and spoke again, casually dropping her hand on Flynn’s arm.  “And she’s giggling.”</p><p>There was a low whistle, “Is Emma Whitmore flirting?”</p><p>“It would appear so.” </p><p>If Jiya had popcorn she’d be totally blissed out right about now.  “How’s Flynn taking it?”</p><p>He was taking small steps backwards but Emma kept coming.  “Not well.”</p><p>The sound of a keyboard rattled.  “What’s the point in having campus CCTV if it’s never focused where you need it?”</p><p>Lucy couldn’t help scanning the area for cameras.  She did refrain from waving at the back of one she found.  “I don’t think they set it up so that you could hack it and watch dating disasters live.”</p><p>There was a rustle from the other end of the line.  “What’s she doing now?” </p><p>“Chasing him down.”  Lucy couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much fun.</p><p>Jiya gave another low whistle.  “You might have to be nicer to him.  If Emma’s on the prowl Flynn’s days are numbered.”</p><p>There were an increased number of sounds from the other end of the call.  “Damn.”  Jiya spoke quickly.  “Rufus’ back with coffee and he thinks he’s got an idea on how to fix this thing.  I’ll have to call you back.  Keep me up to date ok?  I need to know how hard I should try and hide from Emma tomorrow.”  There was a decisive click before the line when dead.</p><p>“Lucy!” </p><p>Looking up from her purse where she’d been stowing her phone Lucy felt confused.  Flynn was twenty feet away smiling and waving.  She quickly checked behind her.  He knew someone else called Lucy?</p><p>“Lucy.”  He called again, moving closer, bringing Emma in his wake.  “There you are.”  He was right in front of her while she was still trying to process what was going on.  His hand snaked around her waist as he dropped a kiss into her hair. </p><p>Lucy’s whole body froze, her eyes the only part of her still functioning as she looked up at him – were his eyes always that green? – asking what the hell he thought he was doing without saying a word.</p><p>“Play along.”  He breathed into her ear.  “Please.”</p><p>“Dr Preston.”  Oh joy.  Another person who made her name sound like a dirty word.</p><p>At least here Lucy could retaliate without the slightest twinge to her conscience.  “Dr Whitmore.” </p><p>“You two know each other?”  Flynn smiled between the two of them, playing dumb to the hostility zipping about like naked electricity.  The bastard. </p><p>“We’ve met.”  Emma’s snake eyes flashed malevolence.  “You two were meeting up?”  Her voice was so disbelievingly scathing it took off several layers of skin.</p><p>Valiantly ignoring any undertones Flynn spoke before Lucy could find her voice.  “Lucy and I have plans.”</p><p>Emma’s eyes narrowed in the corners, her mouth tightening.  “How sweet.” </p><p>Just because she was shocked by the turn of events didn’t mean Lucy had to be mute.  She took a deep breath, ready to tell both of them to go take a long walk off a short cliff when she felt a tug on her waist. </p><p>“Well.  It was nice running into you again.”  Flynn took a step back, turning them both slightly so his body blocked half her view.  “But we have to go.  Babysitters don’t come cheap and I’d hate to waste any of the hours I’ve agreed to.”  He turned further so that Lucy had to choose to move with him or end up in a twisted knot on the floor.</p><p>Aware of their audience and her new complicity in the situation she asked out of the side of her mouth, “What are you playing at?”</p><p>Flynn laughed, a slightly forced sound.  He dropped his head back to her hair and spoke into it.  “Just go with it.  Whitmore’s like a damned leech.”</p><p>Lucy’s pulse started doing a funny little dance.  “Oh?”    Her voice sounded disgustingly breathy.</p><p>“Latches on and won’t let go.”  Flynn kept her close, the heat from his body seeping into her side.  A reciprocating heat began to swamp Lucy.  This would not do at all.</p><p>“You’ve dated?”  She tried to pull away but he was having none of it, simply flexing his hand and holding her in position.</p><p>At the door to the first café bar they passed he steered them inside, locating a seat near the window in the mass of people as though it was the easiest thing in the world.  “No.  So far I’ve managed to avoid it but she’s one of the most persistent people I’ve ever met.”</p><p>Persistent was one of the nicer words Lucy would apply to Emma. </p><p>When Flynn beckoned a server Lucy had to ask, “You don’t really think we’re having drinks?”  Yet she was still sat there, glued by some cosmic sense of what?  Befuddlement?  Bewilderment?  Or maybe just a tiny bit of curiosity about the man across from her?</p><p>Flynn raised an eyebrow before turning to order two glasses of something French.  “I don’t know much about the woman but I do know she didn’t buy the two of us.”  He moved the menu to one side, straightened the sugar container and checked out of the large picture window.  “If I had to guess I’d say she’ll pass here in a couple of minutes to double check.”</p><p>Emma was unpleasant but Lucy didn’t have her down as a stalker.  “That would be a little too obsessive, surely?  Even for Emma.”</p><p>“You seem to know her better than I.”</p><p>“Know is a strong word.”</p><p>His head dipped as his lips quirked.  “Know her well enough not to like her then.”</p><p>It took a couple of minutes for their drinks to arrive, minutes they spent in uneasy silence.  There was something very disturbing about sitting across a table from Garcia Flynn without work between them.  It felt oddly date-like.  But it wasn’t a date.  And she really had no reason to still be sitting here despite what he said.  She should get up and go.  Any minute now that’s what she’d do.</p><p>Before she worked out how to untangle their gazes the server reappeared.  The glowing red in the glass was too appealing to down and run so Lucy wrapped her hands around the stem and deliberately gazed around the room, looking anywhere except across the table, anywhere other than at the lines of a face that was too attractive for comfort. </p><p>Sickeningly Flynn was right.  Not five minutes after their drinks were served Emma casually strolled past the window.  Now she had to stay.  There had to be something neutral they could talk about.</p><p>“You have children?”</p><p>Flynn looked up, startled.  “Hmm?”</p><p>“You said you had a babysitter?”  The image of a couple of dark haired tots hanging off his arms didn’t jar as much as she thought it would.  She could see him smiling the way he had at Dr Christopher, using a more real version of his earlier laugh.  In fact it was all too easy to see the stern lines of his face relax into something scarily appealing.</p><p>“Child.”  His voice roughed with an obvious emotion.  “Don’t look so shocked.”</p><p>“No.  Sorry.  I guess I didn’t picture you with kids.”  But there it was again.  That image of him playing rough-house in a yard, or bent low tending to a grazed knee.</p><p>“Is that a problem?”</p><p>Not for her but, “What about your wife?”  Because he was the type of man who’d want to be married before he had children, although now that she thought about it she’d never seen him wear a wedding ring.</p><p>He gave a swift shake of his head, took a large gulp of his wine.  “No wife.”</p><p>The rush of relief was not welcome.  It made her words sharper than she would have liked, “She couldn’t live up to your standards either huh?”</p><p>His nostrils flared but he didn’t answer immediately.  Instead he took another drink, carefully set the glass down ensuring it was in the exact centre of the mat before him.  “She died.”</p><p>
  <em>Fuck! </em>
</p><p>“I’m sorry! I…”  How could she be so thoughtless?  “I don’t know what comes over me when you’re around.  I’m not normally so … I seem to need to fight you on everything.”  She shook her head, completely mortified.  “I’m <em>so</em> sorry.”</p><p>Turning the glass on the spot, he watch the liquid as it moved.  “It’s been a while.” </p><p>That didn’t excuse her.  “Time’s relative when you lose someone you love.”  It was a sad lament, a hesitant search for something that wouldn’t make things worse.  “I lost my -” she struggled with the word, “father when I was a teenager but sometimes it feels like it was yesterday.” </p><p>Slowly he looked up, the depths of his gaze endless.  “Loss does have a way of creeping up on you.”</p><p>Lucy felt her throat dry up but pressed on.  “It must be hard.  With a child as well.”</p><p>Long, long lashes flicked down as he answered.  “Yes.  And no.”  A sad little smile ghosted over his lips.  “Every time I see Iris I remember that she doesn’t have a mother and that I’m going to have to be both parents even though that’s not fair to her.  I know I need to help guide her in ways I know nothing about.  I don’t have Lorena’s patience.  Or her calming influence.  But every time I see my daughter I see her mother in her laugh or the way she screws up her mouth when she’s unhappy and I know Lorena is with us, even if it’s just her memory.”</p><p>Lucy’s hand reached across the table before she could stop it, resting against his.  He jerked involuntarily, his gaze flashing to hers.  There was something in his eyes, something that pulled at her and the need to lean forward became a driving force.</p><p>Quite suddenly Flynn snapped his eyes shut, quickly withdrawing his fingers from beneath hers.  He turned to look outside before standing abruptly.  “Your help was appreciated today Dr Preston.”  He sounded gruff.  Curt.  Final.  “But, as I said.  I have a daughter waiting for me at home.”  His chair scraped as he pushed away from the table.  “Goodnight.”  He gave a stiff little nod with his head and made it to the door in record time.</p><p>Lucy sat alone for the longest time wondering what one earth just happened and why, oh why, she felt almost hurt by Flynn’s swift exit.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Weapons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In my defense I miss carefree nights out with my friends, with or without alcohol.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Dear History Geek,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Do you have kids?  I never asked before but you sound like you have kids.  I know you don’t need a licence or anything to have them but do they make you go to classes or something before your first one’s born?  How else would you know what to do?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>DON’T stress!  I’m not pregnant or anything.  It’s just.  My mom, you know, had a clue what she was doing.  I’m not so sure about my dad.  He’s the best, don’t get me wrong, but when we lived out of state – see, I remembered I’m not supposed to tell you exact details! – I was allowed to do things that I’m not allowed to do here.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>This is where I tell you I got invited to my first sleep over party this week.  Nothing spectacular but ok I guess.  I’ve slept out loads of times before.  Dad’s met the girl’s mom (it was gross, she was totally hitting on him – like EWW he’s my dad?) and it’s only one block away but he straight up said no.  He won’t even listen to my reasons.  It’s not like there’s going to be boys there or anything.  The worst we’ll do is ‘Smores at midnight AND I promised we’d cook those in the back yard.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He’s become more OCD about me calling him to tell him I’m home from school and stuff too!  He’s even making me check in at lunchtimes.  That is NOT NORMAL!  No one else has to call their parent before they can eat lunch.  I think it’s because he’s not getting enough sleep.  Mason’s been playing up the last couple of nights, barking and scratching at the door.  The first time I thought he needed to go out, you know, like GO out but Dad went mental when I tried to undo the door.  Like CHILL.  If Mason needs to go he needs to go.  When it happened again the next night I spotted next-doors cat in the yard giving Mason the evils.  No wonder he’s barking all the time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Anyway, it’s put a total bee in Dad’s bonnet and he’s added deadbolts to all the doors.  He and Uncle R put up security cameras too.  TOTAL paranoia.  Uncle R says I should cut Dad some slack and it’s not easy having me for a daughter (he’s always joking about what a pain in the ass I am but that’s because I keep teasing him about not having a girlfriend).  I reminded him that we don’t live in downtown LA and he asked if I’d seen The ‘Burbs yet.  No idea what he’s on about.  Guess it’s an old person joke (no offense if you get it!).</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Did I send you the picture of Mason in his kennel?  I’ve added a Home Sweet Home sign above the door.  It so finishes it off, or it will when Dad lets me paint the outside black.  Did you see the picture of Mason standing on his hind legs with his paws out?  He’s soooo adorable! </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Anyway, get back to me on the kid thing ok?  If I have to take extra classes as an adult I’d like to know they’re coming.  And if they’re only for girls I’m going to get the petition started now to change that up!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rainbow Goddess</em>
</p><p> </p><p>The week eked by.  Lucy had taken to double checking corridors before she left her office or the lecture halls.  She made sure to pack her lunch to avoid having to go out to get it.  She’d even given up going to the coffee cart in the quad.</p><p>Her office was stifling but she didn’t know what else to do.</p><p>She was not hiding.  Absolutely not.  She was just taking a moment – an extended moment – to get her head on straight.  The world felt off, like it had tilted overnight and she was the only one to have noticed.  That last letter from Rainbow Goddess had her spidey senses on full alert.  Logically she knew that teenagers, especially creative and intelligent teenagers like her pen pal, exaggerated things but still. </p><p>Plus she’d had to send all her calls straight to voicemail.  Her mother had found her new numbers and was calling again.  While Lucy hadn’t listen to the content the tone of her mother’s voice was enough to rattle her.  As if she, Lucy, was the one in the wrong.  As if by not standing by Carol Lucy was failing as a person.  As if ‘mother knows best’ was a mantra she should live and die by.</p><p>And Flynn.  Snarky, back-biting Garcia Flynn opening up to her about his dead wife.  The feel of his hand at her waist.  The look in his eyes when she’d reached out to him.  The way he’d sprinted for the door.  How he’d started to haunt her dreams.  He was everywhere she turned.</p><p>So.  This wasn’t hiding.  Ducking into the sports hall to avoid Flynn as he’d come around the corner?  That had been hiding.  But eating lunch in her office?  That felt more like self-preservation.</p><p>Still.  It was getting ridiculous.  The sun was shining gloriously outside and here she was holed up in a pokey little room for no reason other than she didn’t know what to do for the best.  Oh lord, she was going to have to go for another run wasn’t she?  Anything to clear away the cobwebs and clutter.  If only Jiya was available and not still trying to solve what was turning out to be an unsolvable riddle.</p><p>The door opening should have been a welcome interruption to her brooding.  Emphasis on should.</p><p>“Hello Princess.”</p><p>They had to be kidding.  Didn’t she have enough on her plate?</p><p>“Emma.”  The decisive click of the door sounded ominous.  “How can I help you?”  <em>Please tell me you’re in the wrong place and don’t let the door hit you on your way out.</em></p><p>“You and Flynn.”  Frostbite would have felt warmer.</p><p>If she didn’t kill him for his smugness, or superiority, or half slanderous assumptions, or the plethora of other crimes he’d committed in her head, Lucy could definitely get away with dispatching him for this one.</p><p>“Yes?”  She managed through her teeth.</p><p>“Back off.”</p><p>Really?  “Excuse me?”</p><p>Emma lent casually on the back of the visitors chair.  Stylish.  Elegant.  A big cat waiting to use her claws.  “He’s not your type Princess and you’re not his.”</p><p>Lucy’s tongue curled up in her mouth as she tried to manage her temper.  “How nice of you to share your opinions, however erroneous they are.”</p><p>“Oh please!”  Emma sank so gracefully into the chair Lucy could have spat.  “The idiot with the kicked puppy expression?  He’s your style.  Flynn’s more than you can handle little girl.”</p><p>This was her office.  Emma would do well to remember it.  “Well as The Idiot is no longer available I’ll have to take my chances won’t I?”  The tone and the smile were one of the few things she’d accept from a lifetime with Carol Preston.</p><p>Presumably Emma’s lessons had been in being a first class bitch.  “Sleeping with a married man did give you a touch of colour for a while there Princess but now he’s gone you’re all beige again.  And Flynn is a blue paraquette kind of guy if you know what I mean.  You can’t hold him.”</p><p><em>Go for the jugular why don’t you?</em>  “That’s his decision.”</p><p>“Men.  They don’t know what’s good for them.”</p><p>“And you are what would be good for him?”</p><p>The lipstick on Emma’s mouth looked dangerous as did the gleam in her eye.  Flynn had no idea of the trouble he was in.  “Time to be a good girl and run home to Mommy, Princess.  You’re not fooling anyone here.”</p><p>It was such a strange reference.  Too close to home and yet totally off base. </p><p>“If that’s all?”  Lucy used the bored, I’m done with you tone she applied to the most heinous of student layabouts. </p><p>To her credit Emma stood and walked to the door.  “Remember what I said Princess.  Little fish in big ponds don’t do so well on their own.  Bad things have a way of happening to them.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Callie?”  Lucy asked her teaching assistant.  “Where is everyone?”</p><p>The afternoon lecture was usually busy.  Maybe because all the students were on site for the sports events that happened soon after its completion.  Maybe – hopefully – because Lucy’s lectures on inventions of the nineteenth century were interesting in ways learning dates and places weren’t.</p><p>Except the lecture hall was empty.</p><p>“Um?”  The PhD student was as clueless as she was.</p><p>Lucy opened the doors and looked into the corridor.  There were still people milling about so she hadn’t missed a fire drill.  She certainly hadn’t cancelled the lesson.  So where..?</p><p>“Dr Preston!”  A breathless first year sprinted up.  “Am I too late?”</p><p>“Hi!  No.  I haven’t started yet.  Do you know-?”</p><p>“I brought comfortable clothes like the flyer said.”  The boy indicated the jogging bottoms and trainers.</p><p>Lucy frowned.  “Flyer?”</p><p>“For the practical.”</p><p>The furrow on Lucy’s forehead deepened.  “Practical?”</p><p>“It said to be here at 1.30 sharp.  I know I’m a couple of minutes late but-”</p><p>“This is Nineteenth Century Inventions.”</p><p>“Yeah.  Normally.  But it got flipped for Nineteenth Century Weaponry.”</p><p>Flipped?  Weaponry?  Practical?!  He wouldn’t!  Would he?</p><p>“Did the flyer give a location?”  She tried hard to sound calm even if she didn’t feel it.</p><p>The boy’s hands spread wide as he shrugged and explained like he was talking to a toddler, “Yeah.  Here.  At half one.”</p><p>Lucy pushed out a long breath.  “Obviously there’s no one here now though so..?”</p><p>“Um, Dr Preston?”  Callie had appeared behind her, as concise as ever.</p><p>Could the girl not see she was talking?  “One moment.”</p><p>“But Dr Preston…”</p><p>Lucy closed her eyes and sighed, holding up a hand to keep the first year where he was.  “Yes Callie.”</p><p>“The note I took off the door said latecomers were supposed to make their way to the sports field.”</p><p>  Give her strength!  “And you didn’t think to mention this before?”</p><p>“I wasn’t late.”</p><p>It was a wonder Lucy wasn’t grey with the stress of dealing with students all day.  “Sports field.  Very helpful.  Thank you.”  It would waste too much time if she shook Callie to check if her brain was actually in there. </p><p>Lucy might be short but she could be fast when it was called for and right now it was called for.  He’d cancelled her lesson?  Without asking?  Without even telling her?  And what the hell was he thinking conducting a practical lesson with weaponry?  Nineteenth century weaponry!  Was he out of his mind?</p><p>Disgustingly the sports field had amassed a large crowd - of her students - all gathered around a centre.  Thankfully there were no shots ringing out but as far as Lucy could tell that was only a matter of time.  Every step brought another deadly device to mind.  Sabres.  Swords.  Cutlasses.  Rifles.  Muskets.  Pistols.  And he was holding a damned practical lesson?!!</p><p>“So we only aim for the dummies, okay?”  Flynn’s deep voice carried across the crowd, something a lot like laugher in it.  The crowd nodded, anticipation rising, but Flynn’s voice overrode it.  “The dummies or you’re out of here.”</p><p>A chorus of agreement circled.  Then movement and noise.  Through the gaps Lucy couldn’t believe her eyes.  A long line of sandbag dummies had been assembled, dangling from makeshift wooden frames.  Students were picking up muskets, oh dear God, and attaching metal – wait, were they bayonets?</p><p>“Are you crazy?”  She screeched.</p><p>Flynn looked back, surprised.  “Dr Preston.  Have you come to join in?”</p><p>“Join in?”  She marched right up to him and poked him in the shoulder.  “I should be here to have you committed!  You’re giving bayonets to children!”</p><p>He looked from her finger to her face.  “They’re teenagers.”</p><p>“With weapons!”</p><p>Her increasing fury seemed to inversely influence his state of calm reasonableness.  “You’re looking a little flushed Dr Preston.  You should get a drink and calm down.”</p><p>“Calm down?  Calm down?!”</p><p>Flynn took hold of her arm and turned to the onlookers.  “Find a partner and form a line facing the dummies.  I’ll be with you in one minute.” </p><p>“Do nothing of the kind!”  Lucy tried to override.</p><p>He swung back to her, not thrilled to be contradicted in front of the students, a line of colour lighting his high cheekbones.  “That’s a bit rude don’t you think Lucy?  I don’t come into your lessons all guns blazing.”</p><p>“All guns blazing is what I’m trying to avoid.”  She snarled trying to prise his fingers off her.  “This is the most irresponsible thing-”</p><p>It turned out he was stronger than her, strong enough to keep hold without squeezing hard enough to bruise.  He stepped them out of earshot.  “Will you breathe woman?”  He matched her glare for glare until she took a steadying breath.  “There.  Now take a proper look at those bayonets.”</p><p>She couldn’t help herself.  Great big musket.  Filthy big bayonet and, “Oh!”</p><p>“They’re all capped with rubber ends.”  His chest was rising and falling more rapidly despite the calmness in his voice.  “Do you honestly think I’d allow people who can’t spell Santa-Anna’s name correctly to use a deadly weapon?”</p><p>“What if they come off?”  It sounded like a weak comeback to her own ears.</p><p>Without the incensed outrage to prop her up she was becoming increasingly aware of how close they were stood, of how he was wearing a light casual shirt with his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms.  She could feel the air move every time he took a breath.  Could see his throat bob as he swallowed. </p><p>That smug smile of his began to dance around his mouth.  “They’re the training weapons for the local re-enactment society.  The ends aren’t coming off or the society would get sued.”</p><p>Okay.  So he hadn’t completely lost his mind.  But he’d still cancelled her lesson. </p><p>“You had no right to arrange this for my lecture time.”</p><p>He leaned forward so that there was a matter of centimetres separating them.  “It was the only time I could get the bayonets.” </p><p>It sounded reasonable but…  “And it didn’t occur to you to ask me if it was ok?”</p><p>He laughed.  He actually laughed at her!  “I left you a message.” </p><p>Bloody answerphone.</p><p>“You should have waited for my response.”  Now she was beginning to sound petty.  That wasn’t how this was supposed to go.  She’d been in the right damn it.</p><p>“I assumed you’d get back to me if you had a problem.”</p><p>“I have a problem!”  One of many so it turned out.</p><p>A dark glitter swirled in his eye; the air around them tingling with a weird heightened electricity.  Lucy was sure he was about to lean forwards and…  “Well it’s a bit late to bring it up now don’t you think?”  He caught himself, gave his head a shake, took a step back.  “Look.  Everyone’s waiting.  Can we have this discussion later?  Great.  Thanks.”  And he walked away.  He just walked away from her.  Again!</p><p>Garcia Flynn had the luck of the devil because if Lucy could get the rubber ends off those bayonets he’d be a dead man right about now.</p><p>She pulled out her phone and pressed speed dial two.</p><p>“Hell-”</p><p>She didn’t give Jiya a chance to finish.  “I’m going to the store to pick up potato chips, five flavours of ice-cream and a bottle of vodka.”</p><p>There was silence for a second before her friend asked, “Is this a girls night 911?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Thank God for that!  If I have to stare at one more line of code I’m going to torch this lab!”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“That’s disgusting.”  Lucy felt pleasantly happy.  And relaxed.  Maybe a little sleepy.</p><p>Opening her mouth wide Jiya dripped the concoction into it.  “How can you say that if you’ve never tried it?”</p><p>“It’s coffee-cream liqueur over peanut-butter ice-cream.”  Lucy couldn’t be sure if it was the thought of that much cream in one mouthful, or the idea that the liqueur might harden the ice-cream in some way or what but she knew she didn’t want to try it.  “Separation is the key, not mixing things up.”</p><p>“You mix the vodka and the ice-cream.”</p><p>True, she had a glass in one hand and a carton in the other but, “Only in my stomach.  Why would I ruin a perfectly good drink?”</p><p>“I think you’re scared.”  Jiya closed one eye and attempted to pour more alcohol into her bowl.</p><p>Lucy watched with fascination as Jiya’s hand held steady but her head swayed from side to side to help her focus.  “Of ice-cream?” </p><p>Putting the bottle down Jiya abandoned the bowl and sank down to rest her head on Lucy’s knee.  “Of going for something that might be good if you give it a chance.”</p><p>“We’re not talking about ice-cream and booze anymore are we?”  Jiya had lovely thick hair, Lucy thought as she idly stroked her friends head.  Like Amy before she had it cut into the sharp bob she favoured these days.</p><p>“We were never talking about ice cream and booze.  Tell me what happened again.”</p><p>The echo of laughter danced over her nerve endings.  The thwarted anticipation.  “We’re not talking about Flynn.”</p><p>“We’re so talking about Flynn.”</p><p>Who towered over her.  Whose eyes had looked so damn hot even through her fury.  “I need a drink.”</p><p>Rousing herself Jiya drank from the bowl while Lucy swigged from her glass.</p><p>He’d been so close to her, the smell of sandalwood and cinnamon invading her nostrils the way he seemed to be taking over her thoughts.  With the slightest of movements they’d have been touching from forehead to foot.  “He ran away.  Twice!”</p><p>“But one time was straight after he talked about his dead wife.”</p><p>That didn’t make it right.  It made it worse.</p><p>Jiya shrugged, pulling her strap back up over her shoulder.  “Maybe he’s struggling to move on.”</p><p>That made Lucy smile.  “There’s no way he’d be moving on with me.  We hate each other.”</p><p>“It’s all an act.”  Jiya tutted, refilling their drinks</p><p>“What?”</p><p>She lifted the bottom of Lucy’s glass to encourage her to take a sip.  “Well you don’t hate him.  Not in the way you think anyway.”</p><p>The vodka was obviously clouding her thoughts.  “There’s more than one way to hate somebody?”</p><p>“You’ve got a serious case of Deadly-Sin-itus going on.”  Jiya added more ice-cream to the bowl – strawberry this time - and popped a chocolate peanut-butter cup on top for good measure.</p><p>“You’re drunk.”  They clinked bowl to glass and drank again.  “Deadly-Sin-itus?”</p><p>“The best one.  Promise.”</p><p>Lucy’s head was beginning to swim.  “There’s a good one?”</p><p>“Don’t play dumb.”  When Lucy still didn’t get it Jiya spelt out, “L.U.S.S.S.T.”</p><p>A fit of giggles overwhelmed her.  “That’s not how you spell it.”</p><p>“But you’ve got it bad anyway.”</p><p>“He’s an obnoxious-”</p><p>“Sexy as-”</p><p>“Conceited-”</p><p>“The size of his hands-”</p><p>“Smug-”</p><p>“And that accent-”</p><p>“Narrow minded-”</p><p>“You’re desperate to rip his clothes off.”</p><p>A very vivid picture of Flynn’s forearms wormed its way into her mind’s eye.  Coupled with the way he moved his hands and the way they were covered in that fine mist of dark hair that would go right up under his shirt and…  Oh dear.  “I am not!”  Her rebuttal was sadly delayed.</p><p>Jiya snorted.  “Riiiiight.  A little hate sex.  Work off all that pent up mmhmm.  You’ll feel like a new woman”</p><p>Logically Lucy knew it was a terrible idea but delicious little shivers started dancing up and down her spine all the same.  No.  That was the vodka talking.  How would sober Lucy respond?  “What would your mother say?”</p><p>Jiya made a lunge for the phone.  “Let’s call her and ask.”  Lucy scrabbled around for the first thing she could find, using a cushion to repel the other woman.  They both flopped backwards, laughter dampening their eyes.</p><p>“Anyway.  You can talk.”  Lucy finally managed.  When Jiya rolled onto her elbow she continued.  “Where’s all this bravado when it comes to Rufus hmm?  Or the Jaster man.”</p><p>“That’s not his name you know?” </p><p>“Neither is <em>JasterMereel456</em>.”</p><p>“Fair point.”  Jiya didn’t look half so confident now.</p><p>Lucy was warming up to her theme though.  “How come you get to tell me I should be doing the big bad-”</p><p>“Ooh you know he is!”</p><p>Lucy threw her last cushion and missed miserably.</p><p>“But you get to sit in the same lab day in, day out with a great guy-”</p><p>“Shy guy.”  Jiya corrected.</p><p>“That’s a song.”  The melody flowed out of her but she couldn’t remember all the words.</p><p>Unimpressed Jiya lay back down.  “You make this stuff up.”</p><p>“Ask Amy.”</p><p>“Like she’s got your dubious taste in music.”</p><p>Lucy’s taste in music was piquant.  They only had to look at her CD collection for Jiya to see–   Hang on.  Jiya was trying to distract her.  “I’m going to let that go for now because I’ve got bigger fish to fry.  You and Rufus.”  She pressed on as Jiya opened her mouth again.  “Or you and Jaster whatever.  If it’s all so easy why don’t you just walk up to Rufus and kiss him.”</p><p>Shooting her the side eye, Jiya replied tartly, “Because he might die.”</p><p>Lucy waved her off.  “You’re not that bad a kisser.”</p><p>“No.  I’m that good.”</p><p>Lucy couldn’t help the snicker. </p><p>It got Jiya to straighten up even if she swayed slightly and her words were starting to slur.  “All right Miss Clever Clogs.  I’ll do you a deal.”</p><p>Despite the alcohol Lucy heard the warning bell.  “Deal?”</p><p>“I’ll walk up to Rufus.”  Jiya stood and mimed a sassy walk up to a space on the floor.  Following with her eyes Lucy nodded slowly, cautiously.  “Right up to him and I’ll ask him out on a date.  Straight up.”  She made kissy noises at the air in front of her.  Then she turned with the most wicked smile Lucy had even seen her smile.  “When you walk up to Flynn.”  Wait for it.  “And do the same.”</p><p>Lucy choked on her drink.  “Are you crazy?  I don’t want to date him!”</p><p>Jiya half crumpled onto the closest surface.  “You’re telling me you don’t think he’s hot?”</p><p>Lucy’s skin prickled.  “I’m not saying he’s not attractive.  In a tall, dark and brooding way.”</p><p>Jiya’s fingers played over her lips as she thought.  “So you’re saying his mind can’t keep up with you?”</p><p>That wasn’t exactly right.  “He’s incredibly clever.”</p><p>Jiya waited her out, giving an all knowing wiggle of her dark brows.</p><p>“But those things don’t matter when almost every time he opens his mouth it’s to argue with me!”</p><p>A wink.  “So find something else to do with his mouth.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Lucy’s head hurt.  The distant throb hadn’t let up all day.  Drinking on a school night wasn’t clever no matter how necessary it had felt.  At least she’d come to some conclusions about her worry list. </p><p>“Amy?” It was an answerphone.  “Amy can you call me back when you get this please?  The girl you set up as my pen-pal.  I need to know a bit more about her.  Somethings bothering me about her last letter.  It’s probably nothing.  Just call me back ok?  Miss you.  Love you.”</p><p>With her lectures done the temptation to go home and sleep was huge but she needed the damn book for the weekend.  Of course, she could come back tomorrow but then she’d have to get dressed and drive in and ugh.  She didn’t want to.  If she was going to work out what was up with the Flynn situation - had Jiya really said <em>that</em>? - then she needed some clear air away from the world.  She’d get the book then she didn’t have to see anyone until Monday if she didn’t want to.  She could be in her car in thirty minutes.  And she’d have done her cardio for the next week.  Eleven flights of stairs.  She might even sweat out what was left of the hangover.</p><p>Waving her pass across the reader Lucy pushed through the turn-styles.  The security guard barely lifted his head.  Honestly she could be a yeti as long as she had a swipe card.  Well maybe not a yeti.  She was too short after all. </p><p>The ground floor was depressingly empty.  Surely she couldn’t be the only one who didn’t want to give up valuable hours of the weekend, a weekend that looked to continue the good weather trend, sat in a hermetically sealed building?  Then again it was Friday night.  She wasn’t so old she’d forgotten what that fleeting freedom felt like.  Anyway, less people meant less hassle getting her book, and less likelihood of anyone else wanting the same copy.</p><p>The yellow caution tape blocking the stairwells was an unpleasant surprise.  If it was the cleaner there’d be a cone.  So why caution?</p><p>“It’s not safe.”  A librarian passing with a trolley called in a whisper.  “There’s been a water leak so we’ve had to call the electrician.  Best use the elevators on the other side of the building.”</p><p>Lucy’s stomach turned over uncomfortably.  There had to be another way.  She retraced her steps to the entrance hall and checked on the fire assembly map.  One stairway on the east side of the building.  That was the one that was closed.  Library staff stairway on the west side of the building.  Would they let her use it?  She was a member of the faculty.  Then again that had held no sway when she’d asked to borrow a collection of articles from the short loans section overnight. </p><p>The bank of elevators looked like enormous metal teeth waiting to gobble up anyone who got too close. </p><p>How badly did she need the second addition copy of the collected works on the Louisiana Purchase?  She had a later edition at home but there had been section rewrites to reflect the changing understanding of the issues and she’d wanted to compare the two to make sure her reasoning was sound.  Her paper would hold up to scrutiny without the text but due diligence demanded she make certain.</p><p>Running a quick calculation Lucy reasoned it would take about two minutes from the ground floor to the eleventh.  Give or take a few seconds.  Of course every second would count but she could hold her breath for thirty seconds, recite the alphabet backwards, list the middle name of every president and their wives.  She could do it.  It was a simple case of mind over matter.</p><p>Her feet felt like lead as she shuffled them ever closer to the totally enclosed metal box suspended by a flimsy cable in a narrow metal shaft.  Think big, she demanded of her brain.  Cornfields.  Marshall’s Beach in San Francisco.  The abandoned airfield her father had taken her to so that she could try driving before her first Drivers Ed class.</p><p>There was a tremor in her hand as she pressed the call button but she held on tight to the images, already starting her presidential list.  She started counting her breaths as she pressed the button for the eleventh floor.  She would not panic.  Two minutes wasn’t that long.  How high could she count in eights in that time?  The two hundreds?  Four hundreds?</p><p>It took a lot to stay motionless as the door began to slide shut.  Would it help if she closed her eyes?  No.  That way lay darkness and the broken memories of the cold and the water and the-</p><p>“Do you always ride the elevator with your eyes shut?”</p><p>Her eyes snapped open to see Flynn retracting the hand that had caught the elevator door and kept it from closing.  His other arm had his jacket slung over it and his brief case dangling from it.  His pale blue shirt was just as casual as the one yesterday and his sleeves were just as rolled up.  The elevator suddenly seemed a great deal warmer.</p><p>“I, er…”</p><p>“Iris used to try to do handstands in them if we were alone.”  He said casually, as if they were two old friends and not engaged in an odd to and fro kind of battle.  “She was convinced if she could stay on her hands for the whole journey when the doors opened the whole world would be upside down.”</p><p>“Interesting child.”</p><p>“Very.”  He moved his mouth about as if trying to decide what to do with it.  “I really did leave you a message about swapping lecture times yesterday.”</p><p>He had.  She’d checked.  Jiya had played it back more than once listening for hidden messages.</p><p>“Yes.  But you didn’t know if I got the message, which I didn’t-”</p><p>“Which would explain your temper tantrum.”</p><p>The nerve!  “I did not have a temper tantrum.”</p><p>“What else would you call countermanding my instructions to the students?”</p><p>“My students!”</p><p>“And being completely unreasonable about something I’d informed you about.”    His look said he was obviously humouring her. </p><p>She inhaled sharply.  “If you’d informed me Dr Flynn, I wouldn’t have been waiting in an empty lecture hall.”</p><p>“If you’d checked your messages you’d have been informed.”</p><p>Aarrgh.  “When I check my message has absolutely nothing to do with-”</p><p>Ding!  The doors slid open, the light lit for floor eleven.  Lucy was shocked into silence.</p><p>Flynn had taken several steps out of the elevator before he realised she wasn’t following.  “You did want floor eleven didn’t you?”</p><p>She couldn’t believe it.  She’d gone from the ground up and hadn’t even missed one breath.  That hadn’t happened since she was an undergrad.  “Yes.”  She said absently, all but gliding past him in a stunned daze.</p><p>It took her next to no time to locate the aisle she wanted.  The process of locating the specific book was slower.  Some of the number codes were out of sequence care of students hastily returning their texts so that they could escape as soon as possible.  Some of her lack of speed had to do with the shell shock she couldn’t shake.  Finally she saw what she was looking for, tucked away on the top shelf, indented ever so slightly from the book around it.  She looked up and down the aisle.  No kick stool.  Of course.  But the bottom of the book case was four inches deep so if she stood on it…</p><p>Managing to wedge her toes onto the lip of the bookcase Lucy reached upwards.  The way the book was pushed back wasn’t helping.  She could just about touch the spine with her fingertips but–  A large hand reached over her head and pulled out the elusive work. </p><p>Flynn’s whole body bent over her as he lowered his arm and looked down, his eyes flashing from her parted lips upwards.  Thrumming anticipation resurfaced faster than a hummingbird flew.</p><p>The world held its breath.</p><p>Closing her fingers around the book Flynn’s roughened voice managed to tighten the spell around them.  “Have a good weekend Lucy.”  He said softly.</p><p>And for the third time in seven days he walked away from her.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Opportunity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <em>Dear History Geek, </em>
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  <em>How do you know if a boy likes you?  My mom always said that boys pulled your braids if they did but I’m way too old for braids so what do I do now?  And how do I know if I like a boy?  Like like not just friends like.  I mean I like my friend Brady.  He’s goofy and is wicked quick on the Switch but I wouldn’t want to kiss him.  He’s got braces and my lips might get stuck.  That can happen can’t it?</em>
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  <em>They’ve put me in extra classes for the gifted (should’ve been pulling my punches in math) and I sit next to Brice.  He has shoulder length dirty blond hair that covers his eye and wears a black leather jacket.  He’s sooo cool.  He’s vacationing in Paris this year.  Can you imagine?  </em>
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  <em>I can’t ask Dad about this stuff.  He’d have a heart attack.  Then he’d probably lock me in my room until I’m a hundred.  He might do that anyway.</em>
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  <em>He’s less freaked now the cameras are working but Mason’s still barking at night so he’s still cranky.  He seemed more distracted lately though, less ‘call me the minute you get off the bus’, you know?  Honestly I don’t know what’s gotten into him.  He started talking about when I was little over dinner and all the crazy stuff I used to do.  Total nostalgia trip.  NO WAY did I used to try to plant cooked broccoli florets.  He just said that to get a reaction.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I caught him staring out of the window at the weekend.  He never does that.  And when I asked about getting a takeout he didn’t even question what.  He just handed over a twenty.  You don’t know him but that is a big deal.  It’s always ‘how many pizza slices did you have in the school cafeteria’ and ‘fast food rots you from the inside’ never an open offer on what I want.  It could be the book he’s reading I suppose.  I can get a bit obsessed when I find a good one – currently looking for recommendations if you have any – but he’s reading one of his colleague’s works about Amelia Bloomer.  She’s cool and stuff but that wouldn’t cause him to act funny would it?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Uncle R is mooning too.  Not with his butt (although that would be sooo funny).  I think he likes someone at work but he won’t tell me who.  AND he’s changed his passwords so I couldn’t take a peak when we went over to his on Sunday.  His Mom brought us all a dinner and man.  Think of the BEST chicken dinner you ever ate then times it by about a million.  All Uncle R had to do was wash up when we were done.  I don’t think it’s right to make your guests dry plates but Dad said there’s no such thing as a free lunch.  When I get my own house I’m going to use the dishwasher ALL the time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Did you have a boyfriend when you were my age? I guess I’m not allowed to ask if you have one now.  You could tell me anyway.  Only if you want.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rainbow Goddess</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>To say the staff meeting had been smooth would be an over statement.  Odd might be better.  The dinosaurs were still in full denial so that wasn’t new but not ending up in a pitch battle with Flynn was.</p><p>Lucy felt almost … disappointed?</p><p>He was holding the door for her as she made her way to the exit, looking across his arm with the hint of a dimple playing in his cheek, the devil in his eye.  Ooh.  Verbal sparring on the walk back to their offices then.</p><p>“A word please Lucy.”  Her boss’s voice put a dampener on the image.</p><p>Flynn shrugged and let the door close behind him.</p><p>“Dr Christopher?” </p><p>“Denise.” </p><p>It couldn’t be a bad talk if Lucy was being asked to use a first name. </p><p>Just as soon as she was seated Denise cut to the point.  “The changes we’re making within the department should help raise our approval rating on campus but I’m concerned that information won’t filter out into the wider community for some time.  Thoughts?”</p><p>Would ‘I’m so thrilled you’re here, you’re a much better boss than Halbrook and thank you for wanting my opinion’ be too sycophantic?  “I think you’re right.  At Stanford they were working on the principle that in house changes took two to four years to take effect off campus.”</p><p>Denise nodded, her thoughts confirmed.  “Quite right.  We need it to move faster.”  The new applications were already being processed but for the department to become successful they needed to plan for the following year’s intake and the one after that.  “I’d like you to come up with some short, lower level lectures that we can take out to local schools and - depending on the feedback - further afield.  I want those pupils buzzing with the new direction we’re  taking here and taking that energy home to their parents.”</p><p>What an opportunity!  And there were so many possibilities.  She could keep the mini lectures in the early twentieth century so they were more relevant to what the children had been learning, or go right back to the formation of the nation.  If she got together some props she might be able to make smaller, class visits that tied in too and get everyone talking that way.  Or-</p><p>“Draw up some ideas with Dr Flynn.”</p><p>Oh.  The train of Lucy’s thought came to a sudden, juddering halt.</p><p>“Er, I’m not sure that the two of us would work all that well together.”  Without someone getting seriously hurt.  Or Lucy’s subconscious urging her to do something highly inappropriate.</p><p>There was a twinkle in Denise’s eye.  “Because of your … interesting … dynamic?”</p><p>Was it possible Lucy kept finding Flynn as her partner because Denise Christopher thought it was funny?</p><p>Tact.  Tact was the key.  “We do tend to cross swords about most things.”</p><p>The way Dr Christopher was working hard to control her facial muscles smacked of someone repressing laughter with a will of iron.  “A woman of your intellect.  I’m sure you’ll find a way to handle him.  Just don’t make him too toothless.  I’m counting on him to be my attack dog when things get nasty with the old guard.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“I hate you.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>With sweat streaming down her back and her face uncomfortably hot Lucy felt a little more sympathy might be in order.  “That’s not … what you’re … supposed … to say.”</p><p>“Less talk.  Think about your thighs.”  Jiya was like a demon; an unrelenting, sadistic task master.  Probably because all she was doing was holding the punching bag.</p><p>“Don’t … give a damn … about my … thighs.”  All Lucy really wanted was to sit down.  Lie down.  Collapse into a heap and not move for a year.  They must have been doing this Kickboxing class for at least a decade.  Possibly two.</p><p>“You will when you want to wear that short and sexy dress on Saturday night.”</p><p>Would she rather drink the half bottle of water she had left or pour it over her head to cool her down?  It was a fifty/fifty split.  “Why would I be wearing a dress to watch old movies?”</p><p>“Not this Saturday.”</p><p>The way Jiya suddenly found the old yellowing poster on the wall interesting was a huge tell.  What was she up to?  “It’s the first Saturday of the month.”  Lucy insisted.  Their black and white movie spectacular.</p><p>“We’re making an exception.”  If Jiya started whistling and twirling her hair the perfectly innocent routine would be complete.</p><p>“This better be good.”</p><p>“We’re going to a Jazz club.”</p><p>Lucy stopped kicking – oh sweet relief! – and stared.  “Of all the things I thought you might say that one never came up.”</p><p>With no reason to keep holding onto the big black bag dangling from the ceiling chain Jiya straightened and flipped the hair back over her shoulder.  “Okay.  So it’s not really my scene but we’re still going.”</p><p>Lucy narrowed her eyes.  “What are you planning?” </p><p>“I might want a change?”  The tone suggested she had the high-ground but the way Jiya had started shifting from foot to foot said otherwise.</p><p>“Jiya.”</p><p>Blowing out a breath the younger woman slumped.  “Rufus is going to be there.”</p><p>“He asked you out?”  You could have knocked Lucy over with a feather.</p><p>“Not exactly.”</p><p>Oh no.  Machiavelli was at work again.  “I don’t follow.” </p><p>“Well.  We’ve been working really closely for the last six weeks.”  Jiya was being far too chipper.</p><p>“Yes?” </p><p>“And I really think he’s starting to warm to me.”</p><p>She looked so hopeful Lucy had to add, “I’m certain he feels more than warm towards you.”</p><p>Jiya threw up her hands in exasperation.  “You wouldn’t know it from the way he acts!”  She steadied herself, determination lighting her from the inside.  “Anyway.  We’ve been working together and he’s taken to leaving his phone lying about when he goes to get drinks or use the restroom.”</p><p>“You didn’t!”</p><p>“Not on purpose.”  Jiya drew a halo above her head.  “His home screen lit up with a reminder and it was right there.  What was I supposed to do?”</p><p>Not spend so much time with Amy.  That way devious undertones might diminish.  “Remember curiosity killed the cat?</p><p>Giving it her all, Jiya popped her face right up into Lucy’s and started batting her eyes.  “Come on!  I know he’s going to be there.”  She swapped out the water bottles so that Lucy had a fresh drink all while smiling and pleading.  “We won’t be at work.  I get to choose an outfit.  There’ll be music.  Maybe even dancing.  This is my chance.”  She was seconds away from dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around Lucy’s legs.  “Please Lucy.  I swear I won’t say another thing about him if this doesn’t work.  You know you want to.”</p><p>She was such a pushover.  “What time Saturday?”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“As you can see…”</p><p>A titter of laughter darted around the hall.  Given that Lucy was showing artistic renderings of the Boston Tea Party that wasn’t exactly appropriate.  Was it the wigs?  The makeshift feather headdresses?</p><p>“…the weight of the tea alone…”  More laughter.  Unable to resist Lucy turned around to see what on earth was so funny only to be confronted by Disney’s Mad Hatter’s Tea Party glowing behind her.</p><p>“What the..?”  She clicked for her next slide.  It should have been a picture of the Edenton Tea Party ladies but instead was a screen shot of Mrs Bennet and her daughters taking tea from a television version of Pride and Prejudice.</p><p>Someone had screwed with her slides.</p><p>It shouldn’t be a surprise.  Not after the locks to her office door got changed or her office number started dialling out to the local 7/11 no matter what number she pressed.  But somehow it still caught her off guard.</p><p>She’d planned a video clip for the end of the lesson.  Heaven knew what that had been replaced with.  Probably safest to say, “I think we’ll leave it here for today.  We’ll pick up at the right spot, with the right slides, next time.”</p><p>At least the students were happy to have an early finish.</p><p>On the short walk to the library Lucy went over her movements again.  She’d done the planning several weeks ago but she’d updated and double checked all the slides just last night.  The lecture was her first of the day and she’d had her laptop with her all the time.  How could it have been tampered with?  She should really get someone from IT to look into it.  Lucy just hoped they weren’t as ‘helpful’ as the man from maintenance when she’d complained about the locks.  It still didn’t make sense though.  It wasn’t as though anyone could have actually touched her laptop which left what?</p><p>The persistent buzz of her phone slowed her down. </p><p>“Lucy Preston.”</p><p>“Finally.”  Her mother’s tone had all the warmth of the North Pole.</p><p><em>Breathe</em>, Lucy commanded, stopping where she was and trying to temper the shock.  “Mother.”</p><p>“I’d think after all this time you might find something more conciliatory to say.”</p><p><em>Don’t bite.  Stay calm.  Or hang up.  That would work too.  </em>“What would you like me to say?”</p><p>The arctic chill dropped by several degrees if that was possible.  “You’ve been listening to your sister.  I can hear her insolence in your voice.”  Carol wasn’t calling to make amends then.  “When are you going to learn Lucy?  Amy has leeway to rebel only because her role is less significant than yours.”</p><p>Back-handed compliments and condescension were something Lucy was used to but Carol did not get to take a swing at Amy.  “I thought all parents loved their children equally.”</p><p>“Don’t be petty.”  There was a sustained pause, possibly a sigh.  “You’re well?”</p><p>Lucy managed an icy politeness of her own.  “Yes.  And you?”  </p><p>“I’ve spent the better part of the last year surrounded by lawyers.  Of course I’m not well.” </p><p>She could picture her mother sat in the office chair, running a distracted hand over her pearls while shaking her head in disgust.  It was what she’d done every time Lucy had disappointed her before.  Odds were it hadn’t changed any.  But this time it was her own fault.  Lucy had nothing to do with her mother’s problems.  She would not get drawn in.  “I’m sorry to hear that Mother.”  She would not ask the question that hung in the air.  If Carol wanted to say something she’d better get on with it. </p><p>Come to think of it how had Carol got this number?  After the plethora of answerphone message she’d had to trawl through last week Lucy had changed the sim on her phone.  It was so new she’d had to write the number on a piece of paper so she remembered it.  Surely it shouldn’t have become public knowledge this quickly?</p><p>There was a subtle change in her mother’s cadence.  “I was hoping you might have come home before now.  I’ve been worried sick.”</p><p>A part of Lucy wished it was true.  A smaller part thought it might be.  Then she remembered everything and forced herself to shove the idea that Carol cared about anything other than herself down deep again.  “That wasn’t my intention Mother.”  Neither was returning to the house in San Francisco.  “I explained that I needed time when I left.”</p><p>“Time is a day or two Lucy.  Not eighteen months.  And to find out – second hand I might add – that you’re working there!  Oh, Lucy.”  Here it came, the wheedling twist on what had happened.  “I know there was a lot to take in in such a short space of time.”  Plagiarism.  Wanton destruction.  Police investigations.  Racketeering.  Paternity.  “But to lower your standards so far!  You are a Preston, Lucy.  That hick institution is below you and your heritage.”</p><p>She couldn’t help but retort.  “And what heritage would that be Mother?  Organised crime?”</p><p>“Lucy!”  It really sounded like Carol had taken a body blow.  Pity Lucy knew the truth about her mother’s acting skills.  “You know we would never be involved in anything so vulgar.”</p><p>“The police think otherwise.”</p><p>“Those imbeciles!”  Carol managed to catch herself, soften her tone.  “This is all going to be sorted out soon Sweetheart.  When they officially apologise for their mistakes you are going to feel very silly for allowing these lies to tarnish your views.”</p><p>She couldn’t feel half as foolish as she had believing her mother for all these years.  “Well that’s going to be my problem isn’t it.”  With nothing else to say and no desire to continue the conversation Lucy decided enough was enough.  “I’m running late for a class right now Mother so I’m going to go.  Please don’t call me again.  When – if – I’m ready to talk I’ll call you.”</p><p>“Lucy-” </p><p>She terminated the call before her mother could say anything else, trying hard to stay upright and not curl into a ball right there on the library steps.  She did not need this.  She was starting to build a life – an honest, better life – for herself here.  She’d made friends.  Her boss respected her.  Flynn…  Well, who knew what Flynn really thought of her but they were what, Frenemies?  Did everyone’s body temperature rise several degrees in the presence of a frenemy?  Did frenemies get books down off shelves when you couldn’t reach them?</p><p>No.  She would not let her mother taint this.  She was stronger than Carol knew.  Stronger than she’d even believed herself to be.  She’d come to the library to do a job and she was going to do it.  Carol would not ruin this for her.  Not today.  Not ever again.</p><p>“ID.”  The security guard looked up when her card didn’t swipe.</p><p>“I…”  Lucy fished around in her bag for her university photo ID.  “I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”  She rummaged harder at his impatient gesture.  “It worked fine on Friday.”</p><p>“ID.”  The guard repeated.</p><p>Finally locating and offering up her laminated badge so he could double check it on his computer she tried to magically see through the bar code on the swipe card to the problem.</p><p>“You don’t look like no Mata Hari to me.”  But it was her picture on the screen.</p><p>What?</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know,” came an amused baritone from behind her.  “Given the right lighting…”</p><p>Lucy arched Flynn a look.  Of course he’d be there.  “Can I help you?”</p><p>“I rather thought it was the other way round.”  Flynn flashed his badge at the guard.  “Dr Preston is my guest today Karl.  I’ll keep an eye on her.”</p><p>The security guard nodded and actually summoned up a greeting for Flynn before going back to looking bored.  How come he got preferential treatment?</p><p>“You didn’t need to do that.”  Lucy could feel the anger fizzing in her blood.</p><p>Matching his pace to hers Flynn looked down, his angular features inquiring.  “You didn’t want to access the library?”</p><p>“I could have sorted it out myself.”  She wanted to grind her teeth.  Or shout.  Or throw something.</p><p>“Of that I have no doubt.”</p><p>He wasn’t supposed to agree with her!  “But you had to bulldoze your way in and play the big man.”</p><p>“I suppose I am rather large.”</p><p>Argh!  Here she was with the world’s most contrary man, ready and willing to fight, and all he wanted to do was be calm?  “Would you be serious?”  And fight back!</p><p>“Why?”  He steered them away from the elevators and towards the stairs.  “You’re obviously having a bad day and need someone to take it out on.  If I’m going to be that person I should at least get to choose how I respond.”</p><p>Lucy’s mouth flapped.  She wasn’t...  She wouldn’t…  Oh.  Hell.  Flynn was right.  It wasn’t his fault she’d been forced into a conversation with her mother.  Or that every electronic gadget on campus hated her.  All he’d done was try to help.  “Right.”  She said, chastened.  “Sorry.”</p><p>His gaze didn’t miss the paleness of her cheeks or the tiredness around her eyes.  “Is there anything I can do?”</p><p>“I…”  Where had the urge to tell him her troubles sprung from?  “No.”  To soften the answer she leant forward a touch, her hand resting on his arm.  “But thank you for the offer.”</p><p>He looked like he was about to say more but then he remembered himself and gave a half smile instead.  “Anytime.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The club was small but crowded.  There were pockets of tables close up to a tiny dance space and stage and then spaced further out as they headed towards the back.  The bar was busy but Lucy and Jiya had managed to secure drinks and then, luckily, a table.  So far there’d been no sign of Rufus - much to Jiya’s disappointment - although the first band had been good.  The Jazz wasn’t quite as smooth as Lucy would have chosen but the group had had spirit and coupled with the air of yesteryear the whole place projected there was a lot to be enjoyed.  Yes the waitresses dresses were on the skimpy side - they were going for the cigarette girl style including little pill-box hats - and despite a no smoking sign hung by the door the building still smelled of old tobacco but it kind of made the place, giving it an ambience that would have been missing otherwise. </p><p>Jiya fruitlessly scanned the room before turning back to the table.  “I looked into your little problem.”</p><p>It was on the tip of Lucy’s tongue to ask which one.</p><p>“I found a particularly vicious virus.  Sneaky as the Borg, piggybacking off the system tools and chameleoning whenever I got close.  Have you opened any dubious attachments lately?”</p><p>Oh.  The laptop.  “No.  Shouldn’t my antivirus have picked it up?”</p><p>“Not this thing.  Honestly, if it hadn’t been messing with your files I’d have sworn your computer was clean.”  Jiya gave the room another once over with the same result.  “I looked at your office phone and your library pass too.  They’ve both been accessed by an offsite IP address.  I couldn’t get more than that.”  She looked thoughtful for a beat before asking.  “Any idea who you pissed off bad enough that they’d want to mess with you like this?”</p><p>Unfortunately the list appeared to be growing.  However her mother had always favoured a direct attack, the majority of the history department wouldn’t know one end of a software programme from the other which only left one obvious candidate.  “Emma isn’t my biggest fan right now.”</p><p>Jiya grimaced.  “She’s certainly capable.  And vindictive.”</p><p>“It’s not like I can accuse her without any evidence though.”  Emma would feign indignation and demand Lucy’s resignation if she tried.</p><p>Eye’s still on the room, Jiya’s solution wasn’t exactly helpful.  “French-kiss Flynn outside her office and if it escalates you’ll know for sure it was her.”  When Lucy smacked her on the arm she gave a lopsided smile.  “Just saying.”  She studied the room again and deflated.  “Where is he?”</p><p>They’d been there over an hour.  At this point it was looking slim to doubtful that Rufus was going to make an appearance before midnight.  “Maybe he decided to give it a miss?”</p><p>“But-”</p><p>Jiya was drowned out as the host got another round of applause for the act that had finished up and began introducing a new set.  Through the murmur of chatter and glasses it sounded like Lifeboat Crew.  Lucy vaguely wondered if they were fishermen or sailors in their day jobs before she ended up smacking Jiya on the arm again.</p><p>“Once was fair but twice?  Are you trying to get me back for the kickboxing?”</p><p>Waving her hand at the stage Lucy tried to make her mouth work but words failed her.  The new quartet were setting up their instruments which shouldn’t have been so surprising except as she ticked them off her brain tripped.  A pianist, a drummer, Rufus and Flynn.</p><p>“No way!”  Luckily Jiya’s exclamation was drowned in the first round of applause as they started playing the opening bars to <em>Cry Me a River</em>.  “No freaking way!”</p><p>Flynn raised the trumpet to his lips and, damn, but the man could play.  His fingers worked the valves in a way that did something funny to Lucy’s insides while his throat and neck moved to make the music spellbinding.  He was so at ease with himself and lost to the song.  Lucy couldn’t have taken her eyes off him if she’d tried.</p><p>Rufus’ double bass got more of a role in the next song and by the third he had a solo which made Jiya wide-eyed with wonder.  “They’re good.  Like really good.  Why didn’t he tell me?”</p><p>The twenty minute set seemed to flash past and yet, at the same time, go on in an endless wave that pulled the audience in and held them captivated.  Lucy couldn’t be sure she blinked once during the whole time, so fixated was she on watching her colleague – why did he have to be so attractive? – trying to drink in everything about him.</p><p>For their final song they kicked up a jaunty pace with <em>L-O-V-E</em>.  The room smiled along to the words they weren’t singing with both Lucy and Jiya humming along.  As he finished his final notes Flynn looked out into the crowd for the first time and, as though driven by some sixth sense, locked eyes with Lucy.  The room faded away to nothing, only the two of them connected across the space.  With her heart pounding Lucy forgot to breathe, not sure what to do but sure she should do something because there was a feeling right on the edge of her brain that was important if only she could catch it. </p><p>Applause broke the spell, shocking her back to reality.  On stage Flynn bowed, thunderstruck, but at least composed.  He left with the others while Lucy tried to make her hands work properly, the feeling of standing on shifting sands strong.</p><p>Before she could find a firm footing a familiar voice asked, “Room for two more?”</p><p>They were still in their shirt sleeves and open bow-ties but both men were grinning, on a high from their performance.</p><p>Nodding mutely Jiya offered the last seat at their table to Rufus while Flynn collected a chair from the table closest to them.</p><p>“What a coincidence you’re here.”  Rufus smiled, his eyes full of Jiya without actually managing to make eye contact with her.</p><p>Flynn didn’t miss Lucy’s pointed look at her friend.  “Isn’t it.  Who’s the Jazz aficionado?”</p><p>The guilty look on Jiya’s face was a dead giveaway.  Taking pity Lucy answered before she got a chance.  “I’m partial to some of the classics.”</p><p>Flynn’s lips twitched.  “Like who?”</p><p>Oh, he thought he was clever didn’t he?  Lucy smiled sweetly, her equilibrium returning.  “Miles Davis and Fats Waller come to mind I suppose.”  The mirth dancing in her eye told its own story, “But I enjoy Nina Simone and Ella Fitzgerald on vocals.”</p><p>Flynn lent forwards, chin on his palm, smiling wider.  “Ah.  Not an instrumental purist then.”</p><p>Pretending to think carefully before she offered a response Lucy bit down on her lower lip.  “Musical purity tends to stem from a lack of diversity don’t you think?”</p><p>“Louis Armstrong might disagree.”</p><p>“He found a way to blend popular culture into his work and even took to the silver screen in that guise.”</p><p>Flynn’s laugh was rich and deep.  “His appearance in High Society would cast a question on the purity of his art I suppose.”</p><p>Rufus was watching the to and fro with curiosity.  “Are you two always like this?” </p><p>The words were a reminder that they weren’t alone.  Lucy started, surprised at how close they were to one another, surprised Flynn looked as stunned as she felt.</p><p>He was the first to gather his wits.  “Not at all my friend.  Usually Dr Preston barbs her words for greater damage.”</p><p>“And Dr Flynn finds a way to say the most outrageous things in the most normal of fashions.”</p><p>“Geez.  You are like it all the time.”  Which made Jiya laugh, which made Rufus blush and drop his head some before looking back up at the subject of his obvious adoration.</p><p>“Is that an Old Fashioned?”  Flynn whispered in Lucy’s ear, a smug smile playing around his mouth, while Rufus pretended not to worship Jiya and Jiya tried to start a conversation.</p><p>“Not a word.”  She hissed back.</p><p>“Not even about the aptness of the name?”</p><p>On the other side of the table Jiya hit upon an idea that had the potential to get Rufus talking and fulfil her avid curiosity.  “You didn’t tell me you played double base.” </p><p>Rufus gave an awkward shrug, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “I didn’t think you’d be interested.”</p><p>“But that’s so cool.  Isn’t it tuned in fourths?”  Jiya beamed.</p><p>If possible Rufus looked even more smitten.  “If you measure the bridge and the distance…”</p><p>On their side of the table Flynn casually dropped his ankle onto his knee and raised a heavy glass to his mouth.  “They seem to have hit it off.”</p><p>Suddenly inexplicably thirsty Lucy lifted her own orange adorned drink to do the same.  “They’ve been working together for a while now.”</p><p>His look pretty much asked if she thought he was an idiot.  “I meant out of the office.”</p><p>“You didn’t think they would?”</p><p>Flynn’s gaze wandered over her upturned face, lingering on her mouth for what felt like an eon but was probably only a couple of seconds.  He cleared his throat quietly.  “Rufus is brilliant in ways I can neither fathom nor understand but for every act of brilliance comes an equal and opposite awkwardness with others.”</p><p>“You would know all about that.”  It was like she couldn’t help herself.</p><p>Just like he couldn’t help being a smart-ass.  “Are you saying I’m brilliant Dr Preston?</p><p>Heat rushed to her cheeks.  “It seems strange to call me that here.”</p><p>He was looking at her again which wasn’t helping with the super-heating, or her nerves, not even with her self-control.  It took several heartbeats to realise he was waiting for her to make the offer official.  “You could call me Lucy?”</p><p>Shifting his head to one side as though to see her from a different angle he considered, drank and considered again.  “You’d have to call me Garcia.”</p><p>It was Lucy’s turn to swallow.  “Okay.”  He raised an eyebrow.  “Garcia.”</p><p>The music had a way of making everything easier.  Conversation flowed around the foursome, with laughter and ease feeling more normal by the second.  It felt natural for Garcia to rest his arm along the back of Lucy’s chair, for Jiya to swap drinks with Rufus so she could try his beer and he could try her brilliantly coloured cocktail.  The world of snark and tit-for-tat faded away until anyone observing would have thought they’d all been friends for years. </p><p>“Lucy’s a singer.”  Jiya worked into the conversation after they’d been talking for a while.  She sounded innocent enough but Lucy wasn’t convinced.</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>Jiya’s arm gave her a squeeze.  “You should hear her.”  Her smile was all for Flynn.</p><p>Garcia watched the expression on Lucy’s face and thought better of taking the bait but Rufus ploughed in, oblivious.  “Would you like to join the band for a number?  I’m sure the others would love to have a singer on standby.”</p><p>“Really.  I’m not that good.”  Shaking her head Lucy tried to telegraph ‘shut up’ to Jiya who was blithely ignoring her.</p><p>“Great idea Rufus.”  She smiled her approval.  “How about <em>You Can Leave Your Hat On?</em>”</p><p>Lucy’s blood ran cold as images from their girl’s night and their <em>Full Monty </em>talk came rushing back.  “That’s not really Jazz Jiya.”  <em>Shut up, shut up, shut up!</em></p><p>Batting her eyelashes Jiya shuffled her chair closer to Garcia.  “What do you think Flynn?  Could you manage to squeeze it in somewhere?  I’m partial to a good hat you know.  How about you?  I’m seeing a fedora in your near future.”</p><p>Lucy aimed a swift kick at her shin under the table.  Two could play at that game.  “Rufus.  Tell me.  How do you feel about <em>Star Trek</em>?  I’ve often said Jiya has a thing for-”</p><p>Jiya cut her off quickly.  “Drinks anyone?” </p><p>When Flynn offered to help Lucy wasn’t sure if she should feel more or less alarmed but there wasn’t much she could do about it.  So she turned her attention to Rufus.</p><p>“You and Jiya seem to be getting along.”</p><p>He flushed pleasantly.  “I could say the same for you and Flynn.”</p><p>Who was stood at the bar, a head taller than everyone else there, talking to Jiya.  <em>Please let her not be saying anything too incriminating</em>.  “We sometimes agree.”</p><p>“Yeah.”  He gave a little chuckle.  “He’s not easy to get to know but you seem to be managing just fine.”</p><p>Garcia was laughing at something Jiya had said and looking back towards their table.  Jiya was walking a mighty fine line.  Surely she wouldn’t push too hard?  After all Lucy was sat with Rufus.  “I’m surprised you two know each other.”</p><p>“Mmm, we’ve been friends for a while.  He was working security when I did my internship.  One night we ended up talking music and I found out he played and I did too and we went from there.”</p><p>“Security?”  Had she misheard?  “Why would he be doing that?  He’s a highly qualified academic.”</p><p>Shrugging Rufus watched as people milled past the table, pretending he wasn’t looking at the bar and Jiya.  “It was a temporary gig when all that stuff happened.  I mean, Lorena’s medical bills were mounting fast and without the health insurance from the university…”</p><p>Stuff?  A horrible sense of foreboding washed away all the evening pleasantness.  “They wouldn’t have any grounds to dismiss though?”  Because whatever else Garcia was he was thorough and conscientious.  “There’s a process that needs to be followed.”  No university worth its name would fire him without just cause.  Unless…</p><p>“They didn’t can him officially.  For the records they said they wanted someone who was more American centric and Flynn didn’t get tenure to make room.”</p><p>
  <em>You realise what your mother has been doing to those who disagree with her?</em>
</p><p>“Unofficially?”</p><p>Rufus focussed on her now, the weight of someone who’d felt the sting of unofficial reasons one too many times weighing him down.  “The powers that be were scared of the noise the big-wig professor from out of state was making.  I mean Ivy Leagues have a sway that’s hard to argue with, especially when you’re having to fight for every dollar.  I wasn’t there but you get a sense of these things you know?  Academia isn’t that big a world no matter what your speciality is.  Anyway, after they trashed Flynn’s paper he didn’t take it lying down.  He presented the primary sources and documentation to support his findings, the ones that contradicted the other essays?  That’s when it got rough at work he said.  Things started to disappear and unnamed people started to lodge complaints against him.  Which is when they turned down his tenure.  Of course it was all thrown out when he pursued it but by then it was too late.”</p><p>“For his job?”  Please let it be his job.</p><p>“For Lorena.  The security gig only had basic medical cover and she need way more.  She’d been on a list for experimental treatment, you know?  But without the uni cover she had to withdraw.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man as broken as Flynn when they said that without further treatment she had less than two months to live.”</p><p><em>Your esteemed mother.</em>  No wonder he hated her.</p><p>Lucy jumped about a foot when the chair next to hers scraped back.  Garcia’s smile quickly faded as he looked between her and Rufus.  “I leave you alone for two minutes and you get all serious?”</p><p>With Jiya beside him Rufus shook off the old memories, his smile back in place.  “Nah.  I was just telling Lucy how you and I met.”</p><p>It took Garcia all of a second to put the pieces together. </p><p>“Lucy.”  His heavy gaze rested on Lucy’s stricken features, sadness and sympathy intermingling.  When she wouldn’t meet his eyes he reached out a single finger to lift her chin. </p><p>All the insults and sniping suddenly made sense.  Her mother was responsible, albeit indirectly, for his wife’s death.  She was her mother’s daughter.  How could he bare to look at her? </p><p>“I was wrong before.”  His sincerity was astounding, his voice low but compelling.  “You might be a Preston but you are nothing like your mother.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Misunderstanding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Dear History Geek,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>School sucks.  Boys suck.  Life’s sucky too.</em>
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  <em>Stalin’s taken my phone again.  He has no reason.  NO REASON!  I got one little detention and he’s flown completely off the handle.  Other kids don’t lose their phone for a detention.  There’s a girl in my drama class who gets detention daily and her parents bought her a new phone.  There is NO JUSTICE.</em>
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  <em>And the detention wasn’t my fault.  My Computer Studies teacher blew it all out of proportion.  If she’d listened to me instead of acting like the All Knowing Oz she’d know I had a very good reason to be tweaking the personal file I was in and she’d have given me a medal.  An F-ing medal!!!!</em>
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  <em>Suck-Face – who needs to wash his hair by the way, what is it with boys and hygiene? – was sitting next to me in Math when he asked me to meet him after school.  I concede, I was dumb.  I thought it was flattering.  I thought maybe I liked him.  I made a STUPID EFFORT to look nice when we met up at the park.  He acted cool.  He walked me over to the swings – I should have known what a juvenile trout he was right then – and asked me how my day had been.  I am NEVER getting snowed like that again.  He didn’t care about my almost missing the bus that morning.  He didn’t care about me flunking out of Dodgeball in Gym.  The only reason he even asked was to soften me up so that he could get me to complete our group assignment for him!  He had the NERVE to explain he needed me to do the work because he’d scored a date with the new girl he’d met in OUR MATH CLASS!</em>
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  <em>So yeah.  His school records needed updating.  All those high flying scores he got for his course work, the ones that got him on the gifted list?  None of them were his own work.  So I adjusted them.  And yeah, maybe I went too far when I added he was a bed-wetter to his bio but it didn’t warrant a detention and my dad taking my phone.</em>
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  <em>I know it was wrong when I told my dad to bite me too.  But he made me so MAD.  He’s cancelled our trip back home – our old home – for the anniversary.  We’ve been planning it for weeks then he comes out with this lame-ass excuse about why we can’t go.  I know it’s ‘cos he’s mad at me about the school thing (even though he swears it isn’t) but to stop me seeing Mom?  He says he’ll order flowers for her grave stone and we can go later in the year but it won’t be the anniversary then will it?  And she’ll be on her own.  She’ll think we don’t care.  That we’ve forgotten her.</em>
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  <em>I don’t know what to do.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rainbow Goddess</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“But Dr Preston…”</p><p>Lucy stabbed her pen into her notebook, trying hard to tune out the whine in the students voice.  “Again.  Chocolates will not get you a better grade.”</p><p>The pubescent boy tried to thrust the cheap, crushed-in-one-corner box at her once more.  “But the email said…”</p><p>Biting down a growl Lucy held on to her temper by herculean effort.  “I’ve already explained that email was someone’s idea of a bad practical joke.”</p><p>“But it’s in black and white.”</p><p>“So is the criteria for getting good grades in my class.  Nowhere does it say bribing the teacher.”  She pushed the box back at him.  “I understand this comes as a disappointment to you Mr Giles but if you want to pass you will have to complete the reading and hand in an appropriate length essay with concise arguments.  Just like everyone else.  Do I make myself clear?”</p><p>The kid looked forlorn.  “I spent ten buck on these.”</p><p>“And I’m sure they’ll please whoever you choose to give them to now.”  When he opened his mouth she cut him off before he could managed another ‘but’, “You may go.”</p><p>The persistent Mr Giles made her nineteenth student bearing gifts today.  Lucy didn’t know whether to despair that so many students believed the emails and were prepared to try bribery as an option for a pass or try to work out what Emma’s next move would be.  She didn’t doubt it was the other woman behind this latest stunt - the brief, double-edged, conversation they’d had the day before had all but confirmed it - but without any proof she was stuck.</p><p>Knock, knock. </p><p>“For crying out loud!  Gifts for grades was a prank!”</p><p>Garcia’s dark head appeared around the door.  “Bad timing?”</p><p>“Oh!”  Lucy quickly composed herself, tidying her hair behind her ear while trying to push the remainders of her picked at lunch off her desk.  “I, er, wasn’t expecting you.”</p><p>What was he doing there?  Surely it was the last place he’d want to be.  Yes, he’d said whatever it took to stop Rufus’ bombshell from ruining what remained of the evening but he couldn’t have meant it.  Not really. </p><p>“I was wondering if you had time to start looking at the high school lectures Denise is interested in.”  His hand found its way inside the office waggling a take-out cup. </p><p>Time she had.  A good grasp of what she was supposed to say to him, how she was supposed to act?  Not so much.</p><p>“You brought coffee?”  In other circumstances the cup would have looked a lot like an olive branch.  But then in other circumstances her family wouldn’t have been the reason for the destruction of his.</p><p>“I figured you were less likely to argue if you were otherwise occupied.”</p><p>Why was he being so nice to her?</p><p>“How do you know it’s the way I take it?”  She asked cautiously, tentatively trying to find a ledge of solid ground.</p><p>His smile was crooked.  “I asked the vendor at the coffee cart.  You’re quite a regular.”</p><p>Oh God.  She couldn’t do this.  Maybe if he’d been snarling or sniping or treating her with contempt.  But being considerate?  Checking he’d got her coffee order correct?</p><p>“You’re thinking too hard Lucy.”</p><p>Her head shot up.  “I…”</p><p>“We’re good.”  He looked more serious but the smile on his lips still lingered.  “We didn’t have the best of starts, I’ll admit.  I had preconceived ideas.  So did you.  But we’re a month or two down the road now and, I hope, we’ve found some common ground.  I’m not saying I’m going to agree with you all the time,” the corner of his eyes crinkled, “because we both know that’s not going to happen.  Just like I’m not expecting you to agree with me too often.  However, I’ve seen the kind of woman you are and, if I’m honest, I like her.  I like her a lot.”  He put the cup in front of her.  “I’d like to get to know you better if you’ll give me the chance.”</p><p>Lucy pressed her lips together, trying to hold everything in.  He made it sound so simple.  And yet the spectre of her mother loomed large.  Could he really forget that she was Carol’s daughter?  Just like that?</p><p>“Thank you.”  She wasn’t sure if she was thanking him for the drink or the words.</p><p>Taking it as a truce agreement Garcia found a path to the sofa and sank down, his own drink in hand, changing the subject with a question.  “Gifts for grades?”</p><p>The irritation came sweeping back.  “Someone,” Emma Whitmore, “found a way to send an email from my account that implied students could improve their grades if they brought me a sweetener.”</p><p>The fact that he tried to hide his laugh in his cup was testament to how far they’d come.  “Many take up the offer?”</p><p>“Too many.  They’ve been trickling in all morning despite my email telling everyone it was a prank.”</p><p>“Any original bribes?”  He idly leafed through a pile of papers leaning perilously towards the floor, still trying to supress his smile.</p><p>“Mostly chocolates.  A couple of flowers.”  Then she remembered her fifth visitor.  “And an invitation to dinner.”</p><p>That one didn’t seem to amuse him quite so much.  “Anyone I would know?”</p><p>“A third year who’ll be lucky to scrape through with a pass.”</p><p>Garcia looked like he’d like to ask for a name.</p><p>Could she do this, Lucy wondered.  Could they both put the past aside as he was suggesting?  If Garcia was prepared to accept she wasn’t like her mother shouldn’t she be able to at least compartmentalise the guilt?  So that they could sit here and talk.  So that she could find a way to work with him and argue and banter and … Taking a sip of the perfect mocha Lucy breathed deep.  She could do this.  She could try to do this. </p><p>“Did you have any ideas about the subject matter for the lectures?”  She’d be interested to hear his thoughts.  As long as they didn’t involve anything from the re-enactment society.  “Because I was thinking we either go twentieth century or Pilgrim Fathers.”</p><p>“The formation of the nation is an obvious topic.”  Given his dramatic overstatements they could have some fun in class situations.  “But I was wondering if we should look at the Native America nations too.  We might talk about the peoples of the Great Basin area and the how their influences can be found around us today.”</p><p>Now that would be interesting, especially given their current location.  “Wow!  Great angle.”  There were several historical site nearby that they could use to tie in and … “What?”  Garcia was looking at her funny.</p><p>He raised his fingers to make a frame to look through.  “I’m trying to encapsulate this moment.”</p><p>“Come again?”</p><p>“You agreed with me.  I’d call that progress.”</p><p>Lucy felt a burble of laughter escape her.  “When did you become so cheesy?”</p><p>“I don’t know what you mean.  I’m always like this.”  Lounging back he looked nothing like the man she’d met a couple of short months ago.</p><p>“In your dreams.”</p><p>His face took on a theatrically whimsical look.  “Ah yes.  Those fluffy clouds and shiny rainbow places.”</p><p>It really was that easy.  One of them would parry, the other would counter and their little world would continue to spin.  She still needed to say it though.  Just once.  “I am so sorry about your wife.” </p><p>“Yes.”  His playful banter blinked away but he found a smile for her.  “She’d have liked you.”  A beat.  “And she’d have told you to listen to everything I say as I’m a genius.”  Then he winked.</p><p>Feeling daring Lucy asked, “By whose standards?”</p><p>“Are you doubting me Dr Preston?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t dream of it Dr Flynn.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Jiya tapped on her phone, only half listening to Lucy.</p><p>“We agreed to meet up after our last lectures tomorrow to see if we can build a framework for the classes.” </p><p>It took a minute to get an answer.  “Hmm.”</p><p>Lucy waited another beat but her friend kept on typing.  “And I told Garcia we needed to get hot and heavy next time we see Emma just to see how much she’ll ramp up the sabotage before she gives in.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Okay.  “Are you listening to me at all?”</p><p>“Umhmm.”</p><p>That left only one option then.  “How’s Rufus?”</p><p>Jiya looked up.  “Say what?”</p><p>“Rufus.  You’re texting him right?”</p><p>Her beautiful face falling Jiya looked back at the screen and clicked it off.  “No.  That’s <em>JasterMereel456</em>.”</p><p>“Really?”  What was he still doing in the picture?  “Why?  I thought you and Rufus…”</p><p>Jiya gave a sad shake of her head.  “We went to the retro arcade last night.  It was good, like really good.  We played some old games, got some fries and we were talking - about none work stuff.  We shared a milkshake.  I even,” she blushed delicately, “gave him a goodnight kiss.  Then today he’s nowhere to be seen.  He’s not answering his phone or his messages.  He called in to admin to say he was going to work at home for the rest of the week.”</p><p>“What?!”  That wasn’t right at all.</p><p>“I told you Lucy.  He’s just not that into me.”</p><p>“The hell he isn’t!”  Lucy would never claim to know much about men but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that Rufus was mad about Jiya.  “That man couldn’t keep his eyes off you at the club.”</p><p>Picking at the protein bar that was possibly her breakfast, maybe her lunch or dinner (time flowed in its own way around Jiya’s eating habits) the dark haired woman sighed.  “It was just the high from the performance.”</p><p>“Jiya, you know that isn’t true.”  Not knowing what else to do Lucy wrapped her arms around her friend and hugged her tight.</p><p>From Lucy’s blazer Jiya made a sound scarily like a sniff.  “No.  I want to believe that it isn’t true and that’s different.  He obviously just wants us to work together.  Nothing more.  It’s ok.”  She pulled away and dabbed at her eyes.  “I’ve decided I’m better off with <em>Jaster</em> anyway.”</p><p>“The internet guy who won’t show up?  How is that better?”  Was there any way Lucy could discretely get hold of Rufus and ask what the hell?  Would Garcia know anything?  Because - to steal one of her friends favourite lines - this did not compute.</p><p>“You’re right.  <em>JasterMereel456</em> has been elusive up to now.  But that’s ok.  I’m going to be subtle this time.  No pushy moves.  When he’s ready he’ll ask to meet.”  She sniffed again, “And if he doesn’t he’ll at least message me to tell me why.”</p><p>“Oh Jiya.”</p><p>“Don’t.”  She hung her head forward, allowing the weight of her hair to act like a curtain.  “Rufus and I weren’t meant to be.  Happens all the time.”  She took a bite of her bar and chewed for a while although Lucy doubted she tasted a thing.  “He’s only with the department until the end of the semester anyway.  It’s not like we’ll have to spend much time together.”  Her chin wobbled so she clenched her teeth.  “And if he’s going to hide at home it’ll be even less.  See.  I’m over him already.  Not that there’s anything to get over.”</p><p>As terrible lies went this one was heart-breaking. </p><p>There had to be a way to fix this.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Standing at the front door of the French Revivalist style house Lucy took a moment to wonder what she was doing there.  It had seemed all very well and good when Garcia had called to say his sitter had had to call off and would it be alright if she came to his house instead, but actually standing there, right outside his home, butterflies were swarming in her stomach.</p><p>Was it too late to say she couldn’t make it?</p><p>“Yes?”  A tall girl with a shock of purple hair opened the door.</p><p>“Um…”</p><p>“If you’re selling stuff you suck at it.”</p><p>“Iris!”  Came a warning from somewhere further inside.</p><p>“What?”  The girl hollered back, rolling her eyes under layers of eyeliner.</p><p>“Molim te da učiniš jednu jednostavnu stvar.” While the words didn’t make sense the darkly resigned undertone was clear.  “How would you like to greeted by – Lucy!”</p><p>He looked so surprised she had to ask, “Am I too early?”</p><p>Recovering quickly Garcia managed to smile, “Not at all.”  With a towel thrown over one shoulder and an apron tied around his waist he looked very domesticated.  His daughter looked equally disgusted.</p><p>“This is the colleague?”  Iris looked Lucy boldly up and down.  “Yeah right.”</p><p>Garcia’s nostrils flared, “Unless you want to lose your laptop as well young lady…”</p><p>“I hate you!”  The girl shot off up the stairs as loudly as she could.</p><p>Hopelessness and anger warred on her father’s features.  Turning back to Lucy who was still stood on the door step, he shook it off, ushering her inside.  “Come in.  Come in.  Sorry about that.  Iris and I are currently in the middle of a <em>disagreement</em>.  You shouldn’t have been caught in the cross fire.”</p><p>Oddly, it reminded Lucy of someone she knew very well.  “Can I ask how old she is?”</p><p>Leading the way to a comfortable kitchen he offered her a seat at the breakfast bar.  “Thirteen, going on three right now.”</p><p>“Oh yeah.”  Lucy couldn’t help but smile.  “I remember it well.”  At Garcia’s inquiring look she added, “I’ve got a kid sister who’s a firecracker.  I don’t think we had a day without an explosion from when Amy turned twelve through to sixteen.”</p><p>“Slatki Isus!” It sounded like an oath.  “There’s something to look forwards to then.”</p><p>Lucy quickly tried to qualify, “I didn’t mean that your daughter…”</p><p>Chuckling, Garcia turned to stir something on the stove before grabbing a bottle from the fridge and lifting two glasses down from a cupboard.  “It’s okay Lucy.  Iris has my temper and I’ve done something she’s unhappy about so she’s lashing out.  She’s normally really together - all things considered - but you caught us at exactly the wrong moment.”</p><p>“I’m-”</p><p>“Don’t say sorry.  It’s not your fault.”  He gave her a glass and tapped his to it.</p><p>Taking a careful sip she tried to taste notes of fruits or whatever the bottle always said to look for.  When that failed she settled for enjoying the tartness of her drink.  “Would it help to talk about it?”</p><p>The sigh said a lot.  “I had to cancel a trip we’ve been planning and she’d not taking it well.”  He leant back against the counter top, smelling the wine before taking his first taste.</p><p>“That’s a shame.  The trip I mean not…”</p><p>“Yes.”  Garcia used a long finger to wipe at the condensation forming on the outside of his glass.  “It couldn’t be helped.  But the timing could have been better.”</p><p>It took an inordinate amount of effort to pull her gaze away from the way his fingers moved.  “You’ve just told her?”</p><p>“No.  I told her last week.  But she’s grounded at the moment too and just before you arrived she asked if she could meet up with her study group and I had to say no.”  Her look must have telegraphed her puzzlement.  “Iris calls it her study group because she thinks I’m prehistoric and don’t know that it’s really her friends meeting up to play computer games.”</p><p>“Ah.”  She could easily picture that conversation.  “Well, maybe if you stopped calling them computer games?  They’re all on consoles or online these days.  That might help.”</p><p>Garcia’s laugh did something to Lucy’s spine, a liquid warmth travelling the length of it.  “You know all about this do you?  Being so tech savvy and all.”</p><p>She took a fortifying sip from her glass, trying to dampen down the flutters in her stomach.  “You’ve got me there.” </p><p>The strange intimacy persisted.  Garcia at the stove, low music playing in the background, a surreal sense of being home.</p><p>Lucy coughed, trying to clear the feeling.  “I thought we might plan two sets of lectures, like we discussed, and a series of classroom based activities.”  Keep things on a professional level.  That was the best plan.</p><p>“Sounds good.”  He turned to his pot.  “Have you eaten?”</p><p>Caught off guard Lucy found herself trapped between the truth and the desire to get out of here as quickly as possible.  Sharing a meal with this man would be dangerous. </p><p>He laughed again, amused by the trapped rabbit look on her face.  “I’m not offering to poison you Lucy.  I’m asking if you’d care to join us,” He looked up at the ceiling and rethought his sentence, “me for some food while we work?”</p><p>Without a graceful exit plan Lucy found herself agreeing.  “You’re sure that’s okay?  I mean, Iris…”</p><p>“Will sulk until she gets hungry and then she’ll come downstairs.  It’s a bridge we have to wait to cross.”</p><p>They continued to talk – half work, half not – as Garcia brought cutlery and pasta bowls to the table.  No connoisseur in the kitchen Lucy wouldn’t have liked to say what he presented her with (something with vegetables, an amazing smelling sauce and flatbreads) but whatever it was it was delicious.  It was easy, beyond easy, to keep the conversation going.  In quite moments there was no awkwardness.  Garcia was a witty and intelligent companion.  Too much so. </p><p>The first glass of wine helped quell Lucy’s nerves.  It made her laughter freer, even when Garcia was telling ridiculously improbable tales of lecture disasters he’d experienced.  Her tongue was looser about the freedom her new job gave her and about how much she was enjoying working with their new boss.  Even if she did seem to be on a mission to pair her off with Garcia.  In a work sense.  Naturally.</p><p>“You noticed that too?  I thought I was imagining it.”  The man in question retrieved the wine bottle and started to fill her second glass.</p><p>Not wanting to overindulge Lucy moved her hand to say ‘when’ but managed to misjudge the distance so that his fingers brushed her palm.  She couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath, couldn’t stop her eyes tangling with his or the way his tongue licking at his upper lip distracted her so much she couldn’t quite remember what she had been about to say.</p><p>“I…”</p><p>A slam of a door from upstairs startled her back to reality.  The Flynn family kitchen.  Teenage daughter upstairs.  Not that Garcia’s mind had been wandering the way hers had been.  Thank goodness for teenage intervention.  If not for the noise Lucy might have done something really stupid.</p><p>Iris presented herself in the doorway and looked between the adults, a very familiar frown drawing her eyebrows together.  She muttered something in what Lucy had to assume was Croatian, retrieved her own dinner and sat at the end of the breakfast bar, eating without taking her eyes off the pair.</p><p>“Lucy specialises in History but minored in Anthropology.”  Garcia explained, attempting to engage the girl.  When Iris continued to shovel food into her mouth he turned back to Lucy.  “Iris is completing a paper on the social structures of European society versus American society.”</p><p>“That sounds interesting.”  Lucy tried.</p><p>Iris swallowed.  “’S okay.”</p><p>“Are you finding more similarities or differences?”</p><p>The shrugging shoulders were apparently all the answer she was going to give.</p><p>“Perhaps when you’ve finished your-” The harsh ring of a house phone cut Garcia off.  He looked out through the archway to where the noise was coming from and back again, obviously reluctant to leave.</p><p>Lucy gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head to indicate that they’d be fine.  She couldn’t believe how wrong she could be.</p><p>The moment Garcia was out of ear shot Iris launched in with “Are you dating my dad?”</p><p>Having been imagining kissing him not ten minutes earlier Lucy found herself instantly wrong footed.  “Oh … um … I … we work together?”</p><p>The girl gestured with her fork.  “But you think he’s hot.”</p><p>Three guesses where she got her directness from.  “Um.  He’s very attractive …”</p><p>“Cos this feels like a date.”</p><p>The hell of it was she was right.  It had felt like a date since Garcia had called and asked her to come to the house.  “Um.”</p><p>“Dad never invites colleagues over for dinner.”  Iris watched her with the zealousness of a cat toying with her prey.</p><p>“Well the thing is…”  <em>Come on Lucy.  You’re an articulate professional.  You can answer a thirteen year old for crying out loud</em>. </p><p>“And he 100% wouldn’t cook for them if he did.”</p><p>At least here she had a proper response.  “It was all a bit short notice.”</p><p>Iris looked at the counter and the half-drunk bottle, an accusation in the glare she returned to Lucy. “And he gave you wine.” </p><p>Oops.  That was a sore point then.  “I’m sure he was being polite.”</p><p>“Have you kissed him?”</p><p>Suddenly Lucy flashed back to at time not long after her father died when one of her mother’s male friends came over.  They’d spent the evening in the sitting room listening to her dad’s records and Lucy had been so angry she’d ended up screaming into her pillow.</p><p>“No, Iris.  I haven’t kissed your father.”</p><p>All at once the teenager in front of her looked very young.  “My mom’s gone.”</p><p>“I know Sweetie.  I’m sorry.”</p><p>Her lower lip wobbled.  “No one’s going to replace her.”</p><p>Lucy reached out and covered the girl’s hand.  “Of course not.”</p><p>When Garcia returned Iris and Lucy were talking pleasantly.  He took a rare moment to enjoy the scene.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Lucy…  Can you hear me?”  The line was terrible.</p><p>“Amy!”</p><p>“Hey.”  Crackle.  “Got a bad connect…” </p><p>“Are you okay?”  There were a million things Lucy wanted to say and hear about but given the circumstances.</p><p>“Great.  This place is … Never seen so much white sand.”</p><p>“And your friend?”  For the life of her Lucy can’t remember this guy’s name.  Started with a B she thought.  Maybe a D.</p><p>“Blew him … Jarhead… New guy … auk.”</p><p>Just when she could use proper sentences.  “You’re breaking up Amy.”</p><p>Another crackle.  “Got … message.”</p><p>“About my pen-pal?”  Good.  Hopefully Amy could fill in the details and set Lucy’s mind at ease.</p><p>“Good kid.  … sass.  Just … me.  She was sad … mom.”</p><p>“I know.  But she’s said some things and I think I need to check on her.”  Like her references to the Men in Black and her dad’s reaction to noises outside in the night.</p><p>“… school?”</p><p>Duh, Amy.  “They won’t tell me anything.  You know that.  I thought you might be able to?”</p><p>The phone went quiet for so long Lucy thought they’d lost the connection.  Then, finally, “Can ask.  … if you look her up?”</p><p>It wasn’t exactly easy filling in the missing words all the time.  “I can’t just look her up.  I don’t even know her real name.”</p><p>“… Problem.  … Flower of some kind.”  The words sounded extra loud.</p><p>“Flower?  Her name is flower?”  Poor kid.</p><p>“… silly.  She’s named after …”</p><p>After another long pause Lucy tried, “Can you remember what?”  A long line of crackle.  “Amy?  Amy?”</p><p>Her sister’s voice came through clearly for the first time.  “Still here.  Moved for the signal.  She’s named after some old fashioned flower.  Right up your street.  Blast.  What was it?  I know I thought of you straight away because of the history connection.”</p><p>Only Amy would remember her reasoning but not the name.  “That’s a bit vague.”</p><p>“Yeah.  I know.  Distract me.  Tell me about your new guy.”</p><p>“What?”  Lucy felt herself flush all over.</p><p>“Jiya sent me an email saying you were all hot and bothered about someone new at work.”</p><p>“It’s not like that.”  Although it could be like that, at least in her head.</p><p>“I know when you’re trying to pretend sis.”</p><p>“It’s complicated.”</p><p>The line started to crackle again.  “…sex like?”</p><p>“Amy I’m losing you again.”</p><p>“… convenient.”</p><p>“Amy!”  She needed answers before the line cut out altogether.</p><p>“Yeah.  Girls name.  Purple flower.  Funny looking.  Dad grew ...”  More crackling.  “I know.  I thought … because … Greek Goddess.”  The line went dead.</p><p>Great.  A stupid puzzle and her sister thought she’d hooked up with Flynn.  When Amy got back the questions would be relentless.</p><p>A girl’s name.  A purple flower that their dad had grown.  That didn’t exactly shorten the list.  Their father had had a green thumb.  Even the orchids had done well.  And a Greek Goddess?  There were several floral wood nymph names but a goddess?  Lucy thought hard about their garden when she was younger.  There had been a controlled riot of border plants and shrubs.  Carol’s favourite colour was pink so all the roses had been various shades of that and the big magnolia tree was still at the bottom of the garden near the summer house.  There’d been a blueishly flowered bush once but her mother had hated it so her father had taken it out. </p><p>Amy had said purple though.  Where had the purple flowers been?  Not in the main beds.  They would have stood out like a sore thumb.  Not in the front garden either.  They were all show pieces for the neighbours.  It must have been on the porch.  In the tubs.  Yes.  The chill of winter turning to spring and those purple flowers popping up to cheer the girls home from school.  Lucy vaguely remembered something about threes.  Three petals?  Petals clustered in threes?  It didn’t matter.  What were they called again?</p><p>Her phone beeped to show a text message.  It was from Garcia.</p><p>
  <em>Thanks for a lovely evening.  We could do it again sometime?  Iris promises to be on her best behaviour.</em>
</p><p>Oh no.  Those little purple flowers.  A Greek goddess.  No, no, no, no, no.  Rainbow Goddess.  Please don’t let her be Iris Flynn.  Garcia would never believe it was a coincidence.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Molim te da učiniš jednu jednostavnu stvar - I ask you to do one simple thing</p><p>Slatki Isus! - Sweet Jesus</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Games</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Letters, texts, games and emails.  Things get worse before they get better.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter did not want to be written.  This is version 75, maybe 80.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Dear Rainbow Goddess,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How are you?  Funny story but I was speaking to my sister and –</em>
</p><p>No. </p><p>
  <em>Dear Rainbow Goddess,</em>
</p><p><em>So, I was thinking, we’ve been writing to each other for a while now and it might be time to use our real names?  Please don’t let yours be Iris.  And if it is then please, please, please don’t let your surname be Flynn.</em> </p><p>Not that she could send that either. </p><p>
  <em>Dear Iris,</em>
</p><p><em>I honestly didn’t know it was you when we met and I absolutely had no idea that I was working with your father.  Who drives me crazy and enjoys arguing far too much and who I think I might be falling in love with.</em> </p><p>What on God’s green earth was she saying?  This was a disaster. </p><p>Lucy had spent the whole of Saturday composing and deleting her next letter to ‘Rainbow Goddess’.  Truly, she was holding onto the idea that Garcia’s Iris was not her pen-pal with a death grip but she knew the odds were short.  Shorter than short.  There were too many similarities.  Too many questions.</p><p>And if - when - she proved conclusively she was writing to Iris Flynn how did she tell Garcia? </p><p>
  <em>Hi.  Friday night was great.  You’re a fabulous cook.  I really wanted to kiss you goodnight.  And, by the way, I know my mother was in part responsible for your wife’s death and that you’ve been amazing about it but it also turns out your daughter’s been sharing her inner most thoughts with me via letter for months too.  Surprise.</em>
</p><p>He was never going to forgive her.</p><p>
  <em>Ping.</em>
</p><p>And Lucy was such a hypocrite.</p><p>She and Garcia had been texting all day - ostensibly for work purposes - but coupled with the heightened intimacy from the previous evening, with the way the texts always included some personal titbit or question, it felt a whole lot more like friendship.  More than that.  It felt much closer to dating.  And she couldn’t seem to stop herself.</p><p>Every time her phone pinged to show a new message she told herself to leave it, concentrate on her letter.  If she could get the letter right then she could find the right words, the right way to bring up the subject with Garcia.  Then, just after she finished the pep-talk, she’d pick up the phone craving his thoughts.</p><p>She couldn’t tell him in a text.  That was Lucy’s first, possibly only consistent thought of the day.  It had to be done face-to-face.  Which was absolutely why she’d agreed to meet Garcia for dinner on Monday.  It had nothing to do with wanting to see him.  Nothing at all to do with wanting to watch the way his eyes creased in the corners when he laughed or the way his hands moved.  She did not need to hear the timbre of his voice or the way he pronounced her name, his accent stretching out the vowels.</p><p>Rubbing futilely at her face Lucy tried to compose herself.  Write the letter.  Stop flirting.  Find a way to explain to Garcia so that she could keep flirting.  No.  No flirting.  Do not touch the phone.</p><p>
  <em>You didn’t really land at your lecturer’s feet did you?  I bet that made quite an impression.  When we visit the local schools I promise to be on hand to catch you if you trip. G x</em>
</p><p>The feel of his hand in hers would be wonderful.  He’d look down at her and smile then … No.  She shook her head.  This was not working.  She had to write this damned letter.  Maybe if she text him back to tell him he wouldn’t think it so funny if she tripped while he was trying to demonstrate?  No.  No more texting.  And no more wasted efforts on a letter that did not want to be written.</p><p>There had to be a better way.  Someone who would be able to tell her what she needed to know without having to ask Iris. </p><p>But who?  The only people Rainbow Goddess ever talked about were her dad and … oh.</p><p>Now there was a thought.</p><p>And as a bonus she’d been planning to pay him a visit anyway.  If Rufus was a certain Uncle R then he could answer all those nagging questions the letters had brought up.  And if he wasn’t he could still explain what the hell was going on between him and Jiya.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve got to be kidding me!”  Rufus jammed his fingers into the keyboard, typing furiously and getting nowhere fast.</p><p>Lucy held her tongue.  One more loss and he’d be forced to concede defeat.</p><p>Eyes still glued to the screen Rufus tried to outmanoeuvre the obstacle, totally outraged he was losing.  “This game blows.”</p><p>“We had a deal.”</p><p>“Yeah.”  He typed another command.  “But given your age I thought you’d choose Super Mario or something.”</p><p>She might be a gaming novice but Lucy was not dumb.  As if she’d challenge him to something he probably cut his milk-teeth on.</p><p>“This game is like a hundred.”  Rufus groaned, paused, thought and began typing again. </p><p>“A game is a game.”  Knowing how smart he was Lucy had bargained on five lives.  Five lives for five questions.  She’d risked a lot on him not being able to learn the <em>Inglish</em> parameters that quickly.</p><p>He shot her a disgusted look.  “That is so far from true it hurts.  We’ve come a long way, I mean a looong way, from single pixel tennis balls.”</p><p>“Agreed but you let me choose the game and this is the one I chose.”</p><p>“It’s impossible.”</p><p>“I promise it’s not.”  Although until you spoke the lingo, so to speak, it was incredibly frustrating.</p><p>“Look.”  Rufus typed ‘Pick up torch’.  The four inch text panel at the bottom of the screen replied, ‘Which torch?’  Rufus tried, ‘Collect torch from fire’ to which the computer replied ‘Unable to collect torch from fire’.  Rufus tapped at his keyboard again, ‘Skirt campfire’ to which the text box replied, ‘Explain skirt’. </p><p>Lucy could almost hear the gears burning out in the poor man’s head.</p><p>‘Go around campfire’.</p><p>This time the screen started to change as the view got closer and closer to the orange and red pixels that represented the fire.  “NO!”  Rufus tried to unsuccessfully control his character by voice command.  “I didn’t say walk up to the campfire.  Go back.  Go back.”  He typed in a blur issuing every command he could think of to stop his forward progress.  All to no avail.  </p><p>The green writing appeared as it had four previous time in the text box.  ‘The Trolls notice your approach.  The largest troll lifts up his club and hits you on the head.  You wake to find yourself tied to a pole ready to be cooked.  You cannot escape.’</p><p>“Who designed this???”  Rufus howled at the screen.</p><p>“Melbourne House.  Now.  My questions.”</p><p>“It’s not like you can do any better.”  He huffed.</p><p>“I can.”  It had been a painful learning process many moons ago.  “But not until you answer my questions.”</p><p>Defeated Rufus paced his hands behind his head and pushed back from the computer desk.  “Fine.  Five questions for five deaths.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>He rolled his eyes.  “No vague answers or you get a follow up question.”</p><p>“Excellent.”  Lucy just had to hope five questions would be enough.  Having established his identity as Uncle R from the off that left only two real topics to pursue.  </p><p>“Why are you ghosting Jiya?”</p><p>Rufus rolled further away from her, sitting up straighter, obviously flustered.  He opened his mouth and closed it enough times to resemble a fish.  “I wouldn’t.  It’s not.  I mean I am but I’m not.”  He snapped his mouth shut and tried again.  “Circle back.”</p><p>Lucy watched in morbid fascination, not sure what to make of his reaction.  And circle back?  Was that so he could make up an answer?  Whatever the reason he’d called time on that line of questioning and wasting a question wasn’t an option.</p><p>Which left Garcia.  “Would you say Garcia Flynn is obsessively security conscious?”</p><p>Rufus screwed up his face, looking at her like she’d lost it.  “No.”</p><p>“Is he an over-protective father?”</p><p>Something in her tone made him speak slowly, as though she’d taken to walking around in a tinfoil hat all of a sudden.  “These questions are kinda out there don’t you think Lucy?  I mean, I don’t know what you two have got going on but if you’re worried about Flynn being a psycho or something you’re way off base.”</p><p>Okay.  So without context maybe her questions were a bit open to misinterpretation but, “That wasn’t an answer.”</p><p>“He’s a single dad with a thirteen year old daughter!  An industrious, mischievous teenage daughter I’d add.  The fact he hasn’t locked her in a tower and thrown away the key is a miracle.”</p><p>Hmm.  So if Rufus didn’t think he was overreacting then … “Who are the Men in Black?”</p><p>“Seriously?”  At her nod, “You want the Will Smith/Tommy Lee Jones version or the remix?”</p><p>“Not the film.  Iris said something about the Men in Black visiting the house.”</p><p>All of a sudden Rufus found the sole of his shoe extremely interesting.  “Kids and their imaginations huh?”</p><p>“Rufus…”</p><p>It only took a stern stare before he cracked.  “Okay.  Okay.  Look, I’m not really the one you need to be having this conversation with.  Flynn and Iris are tight but there are things a man doesn’t share with his daughter you know?  Things she doesn’t need to know yet.”</p><p>That didn’t sound all that great.  Men in suits at the house that Garcia was hiding from Iris.  Did that mean … “Is Flynn in some kind of trouble?”  Her chest clenched at the thought.</p><p>“I … No, Lucy.  It’s a precaution.  It’s nothing.  You really need to talk to him about this okay?”</p><p>A war raged inside her head.  Rufus knew more, knew enough to help her understand everything but he wanted her to talk to Garcia.  If she was honest she wanted to talk to Garcia, if only she could work out how exactly.  Without blurting her super-secret identity as History Geek.  Did that mean she should push Rufus?  Was that fair?</p><p>Ugh.  What would Jane Adams do?  Well for a start she wouldn’t be writing semi-anonymous letters that could come back and bite her.  This wasn’t helping.</p><p>Helping was the key.  If she couldn’t help herself then she could at least help her friend.</p><p>“Have you talked to Jiya?”</p><p>He shut down faster than a light-sabre powering down.  “You’ve had your five.  I’m done.”</p><p>“Circle back.”</p><p>“Damn.”  He muttered under his breath.  “I’m not ghosting her alright?”</p><p>Lucy indicated the computer lab set-up.  “You’re working from home.  You aren’t replying to texts or calls.  I’m guessing you’re avoiding emails too.  What else would you call it?”</p><p>“I’ve got some stuff going on.  Sue me.”</p><p>Trying to bluster his way out of this wasn’t going to work.  “Stuff that happened right after she kiss you?”</p><p>He blushed furiously.  “She told you about that?”</p><p>“And about the arcade and the great time she thought you had together.”  He looked so pitifully hopeful, so down-right eager to hear more she added, “She’s really cut-up.”</p><p>Rufus looked devastated.  So whatever else was going on Lucy’s instincts had been correct, a lack of care for Jiya wasn’t it. </p><p>“Can you…  Can you look out for her for a couple of days?”  He turned back to his computer screen, his eyes glazed, his mouth turned down.  “I promise if you can give me just a couple of days I can fix this.  If she ever wants to speak to me again.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>A gentle breeze fluttered the leaves.  The sun shone pleasantly.  The library had been fruitful, so much so her arms were laden but Lucy couldn’t get rid of the nerves.  Anticipation.  Dread.  Abject confusion.</p><p>“I thought I might find you here.” </p><p>Spinning so fast she almost dropped her pile of books, a warm rush of pleasure washed over her as she caught sight of the voice’s owner.  Garcia.  Then the flight of butterflies in her stomach turned into a swarm of wasps performing alarming acrobatics.  “Oh!  Hi.”  She smiled but she felt the pinch in it.</p><p>Thankfully Garcia didn’t seem to notice, reading instead the spines of the volumes she was carrying.  “The American Constitution?”  He looked up and her heart stuttered.  “I thought you’d know that inside out.”</p><p>Lucy’s cheeks flushed, her knees turning to water as she wished again he wasn’t so damned attractive.  “Yes, well, I, um wanted to double check the wording in Article 1.”</p><p>“That would explain the Madison biography.”  Garcia’s mouth twitched, his eyes dancing.</p><p>They weren’t supposed to be meeting up until later.  She was supposed to have marshalled her thoughts by then.  What was he doing there now?  Trying to blow an irritating piece of hair from her eyes, Lucy shrugged trying to remain calm.  “I like to be thorough.”</p><p>She stopped breathing as his hand moved the offending strands aside, tracing the shell of her ear so softly she started to tremble.  Then he lifted the books from her arms as though they weighed nothing.  “You certainly do.” </p><p>When he made to move down the steps with her she had to ask, “You didn’t want the library?”</p><p>His smile was rich and deep, cutting groves beside his mouth.  “Luckily what I was searching for was right outside the door.” </p><p>This was so unfair.  With Garcia stood this close, being this relaxed, all dark hair and captivating features, Lucy was struggling to remember her own name.  All she wanted to do was let the mood flow around her.  Go with the flow.  Sink into his eyes and then hopefully his arms.  But she couldn’t.  She had to tell him.  Had to ask her questions first. </p><p>He spoke before she had worked out where to start.  “I was thinking we might try a Turkish restaurant tonight?  Rufus is going to watch Iris for me so we don’t have to hurry.”</p><p>She wanted it to be that easy.  Found herself nodding when she should be saying they needed to talk.  Caught herself walking casually beside him and simply enjoying his presence.  She was in so much trouble. </p><p>There had to be a way to start the conversation.  Did she mention the letters first or ask about the suits at the house?</p><p>But for a second time she was beaten to the punch.</p><p>“The two love birds.  How sweet.”  Emma’s voice was a splash of cold water.</p><p>Garcia stiffened beside Lucy.  “Dr Whitmore.”</p><p>Emma tilted her head, her feet braced, her hands itching to land on her waist.  “So formal Garcia.”  She managed a sad eye flutter.  “But, I suppose these things can’t be helped.”  She turned her frigid gaze to Lucy.  “Especially when others keep pulling the wool over our eyes.”  The smile she gave was not pleasant.  “I’m actually surprised to see you on campus Lucy.”  Her nose crinkled as though she’d caught a whiff of something highly disagreeable.  “All things considered.”</p><p>Lucy had enough problems to be getting on with.  And she was sick of these petty games.  “What’s that supposed to mean Emma?”</p><p>“Oh.”  The feigned innocence was sickening.  “You didn’t see?”</p><p>The red-head’s ill-concealed glee had Garcia stepping forward, edging slightly in front of Lucy.  “See what?”  He kept his voice mild but his gaze was sharp.</p><p>A set of perfectly manicured fingers landed on his arm, Emma’s face switching to sympathetic concern.  “It’s all over campus.  How our precious Professor Preston here is the princess of a crime family from San Francisco.”  She shot a malicious smirk at Lucy.  “It’s in everyone’s inbox.  How she was interviewed by the police.  How her mother is about to stand trial.  Her involvement in, well, everything.”</p><p>What?  No.  That couldn’t be right.  Yes, the local newspapers had run articles at the time but that was nearly two years ago and in a different state.  How..?  The shock must have short circuited her brain there for a moment because the answer was obvious.</p><p>“You utter-” Lucy stepped out from behind Garcia, ready to maim but Flynn caught her arm before she could strike, holding onto her while he kept hold of her books with his other hand, urging her away. </p><p>“Leave it.”  His voice was low, compelling, as he moved them in the direction of the carpark.  “Lucy.”  He made her look away from the smug satisfaction behind them, made her look directly at him.  “Lucy I…”  Whatever he’d been about to say he thought better of, his eyes shuttering.  “We have to get you out of here.  If everyone’s got this information it’s only a matter of time before the press show up.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Jiya was saying something in the background but Lucy was struggling to concentrate.  All she could see was the distant look in Garcia’s eye as he’d bundled her into her car and told her to drive. </p><p>
  <em>“It might be best if you don’t go home.”</em>
</p><p>He’d been looking over the roof, off towards the road, not at her.  He’d tapped the roof as he’d closed the door, told her to drive safe, hadn’t looked back as he’d turned away.  For the life of her Lucy couldn’t shake the thought it was a final goodbye. </p><p>She could kick herself for being so stupid.  Of course he couldn’t get over the idea that she was Carol’s daughter that easily.  Maybe he’d thought he could but with everyone now aware of what her mother had done, what Lucy herself had been accused of, it had obviously all come surging back for him.  No wonder he didn’t want to be anywhere near her, didn’t want to even look at her.</p><p>“Whoever did this was meticulous.”  It was only because Jiya had brought the laptop to the window that Lucy heard her words.  “The way they’ve blurred out the last couple of lines you’d never suspect.”</p><p>Lucy didn’t bother to look at the screen.  She knew the article in question by heart.  The last two lines did exonerate her from blame but it was so short after so many implications and accusations almost nobody believed them anyway.</p><p>“It was Emma.”  There was no doubting it.</p><p>“Yeah.  That’s what I thought too.”  Jiya continued to systematically filter out all reference to the article or its content from Lucy’s emails.  No-one needed that amount of malice.  “But what I don’t get is why?”</p><p>Mute point.  The damage was done.  “She hates me.” </p><p>That didn’t phase Jiya the way it had Lucy.  “Don’t take it personally.  She hates everyone.”  The keyboard continued to rattle and Lucy continued to look out of the window.  “I mean why now?  She’s been harassing you for weeks so why the sudden escalation?  What changed?”</p><p>“She got bored?”  Lucy shrugged, not really caring about Emma, not really caring about much right now.  “It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>How had she fallen so hard for Garcia?  One minute he’d been a thorn in her side, constantly needling her, pushing her and the next?  The next she’d watched him walking away from her out of her rear view mirror while her heart broke.  She’d never even got to tell him.</p><p>“I think it does.” Jiya put the laptop down and turned Lucy so that she had to pay attention.  “You said your Mom was calling you all the time.  Even on your new number.”</p><p>Whatever Jiya was thinking she was wrong.  “My Mom hated that article.  She thought the photographs were terrible and threatened to sue the paper over them.”  At the look on Jiya face she managed the ghost of a smile.  “I know, right?  They wrote she was a crime boss and her biggest gripe was the photographs didn’t show her best side.”</p><p>“So your mom wouldn’t suggest using the article to get you in hot water at work?  Maybe even get you fired?”</p><p>The hollowed out space in Lucy’s chest tried to panic but there wasn’t much left there that wasn’t already in tatters.  Fired.  Out in the job market again trying to convince sceptical Deans and Vice Chancellors that she really was innocent.  “I’m sure she’s considered it but having spoken to her she still believes I’ll see the light without persuasion.”</p><p>“Sheesh.”</p><p>Lucy looked back out of the window again, willing Garcia’s black SUV to pull up outside but the street remained quiet.  “She’s not used to people – me – saying no to her.”</p><p>Aware she was losing her friend’s attention Jiya pressed on.  “But that wouldn’t stop Emma from giving her your numbers would it?  It would be another mark against you staying here, your mom being able to get hold of you all the time etc.”</p><p>She sighed.  “I’m not leaving Jiya.”  At least not willingly.  She’d called Denise as soon as she’d arrived at Jiya’s but had only gotten her answerphone.  It wasn’t like Dr Christopher hadn’t known all these things.  Would the whole campus knowing change her mind on Lucy’s employability?  Would her positive lecture feedback scores be enough to offset the storm that had landed squarely at Denise’s door?</p><p>Jiya pulled her into a hug.  “Of course you’re not.  I guess what I’m trying to work out is when Emma worked that out.  Because that’s what this is.  A finally gambit throw.  So what inspired her?  Have you said or done anything to her?”</p><p>A short shake of the head.  “She never liked me Jiya.  Right from the start.”</p><p>“Yeah but she only started screwing with you when she thought you were dating Flynn.”</p><p>For a moment there Lucy had thought she might be dating Garcia too, at least thought it was a possibility.  Her phone hadn’t pinged once since the library.  Her third number change meant only a handful of people had her number anyway but the only one who’d consistently text was silent.  Had he been about to say goodbye before he put her in the car?  Had he been going to say he was sorry but he couldn’t expose himself and his daughter to this mess?  Could she text him?  Call him and apologise again?  Would he even answer?</p><p>“I’m not dating Flynn.”  It felt like a lie so she added, “We’ve only had dinner together once.”</p><p>Jiya frowned.  “I thought you’d only had drinks?”</p><p>In the bar when Garcia had been trying to avoid Emma then again in the Jazz club.  They’d had coffee when he’d visited her office.  Such a small handful of moments in which to have such a big change of heart. </p><p>“I went to his house on Friday night.”  At Jiya’s look, “We needed to discuss the lecture series,” (there was another thing that she’d been so excited about that wasn’t going to happen now), “And his sitter let him down.”</p><p>“You didn’t say.”  But Jiya didn’t seem put out.  Instead she had that look on her face, the one where she was piecing something together with parts no-one else even knew existed let alone understood.</p><p>Lucy tried to explain anyway.  “You were upset about Rufus…” </p><p>“Emma knew.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Jiya paced away and back again sounding more certain with every step.  “Emma knew you were at Flynn’s house.”  She looked Lucy square in the face.  “Did anything happen?  Between you and Flynn?”</p><p>Not that it was any of her business or in any way relevant but, “No.  Garcia and I had dinner and a couple of glasses of wine.  We talked about the lectures.”  <em>I fell in love.</em>  “He called me a cab and I went home.”</p><p>“No kiss?”</p><p>Lucy blushed to the roots of her hair.  “Jiya!”</p><p>“Well?”</p><p>“No.  No kiss.”  Although now she wished she had kissed him.  At least she’d know what it would have felt like.  “I went there to work.  His daughter was there.”</p><p>Jiya paced again, muttering all the while.  Finally she stopped, returning to Lucy and stating with a certainty that was absolute.  “I don’t know how – yet – but Emma saw you at the Flynn’s and realised that her chances with Garcia were disappearing.”</p><p>That was ludicrous.  “Jiya…” </p><p>“Hear me out.  She’s tried aggravating you, disrupting your lessons, given your number to your mother and nothing has worked.  You’re still here and Garcia is very much captivated by you.”</p><p>He had dropped his hand from her the moment he was sure she wouldn’t try to attack Emma.  He’d looked forwards the whole time he marched her to her car.  He couldn’t wait to get rid of her.  “You didn’t see him Jiya.”</p><p>It was like the other woman hadn’t heard her.  “So she mail-bombs everyone the article that makes you look guilty hoping it will be the final nail in your coffin.”  Jiya grabbed the laptop and Lucy’s hand, pulling her towards the door.  “But it won’t be.”  She pushed them both into her tiny car and started to reverse.  “It’s going to be the final nail in hers.  I just need a computer lab to prove it and I know a man that owes me big.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Iris</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Computers, photographs and trouble.  Lots of trouble.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter 8 got long so I've split it in two for reading ease.  Please consider this as 8a and the next as 8b.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In true Jiya style she didn’t wait to be invited in.  Before Rufus had managed two syllables she’d walked through the door and started her search for the equipment she needed.  Lucy followed, offering a cursory apology for the abruptness of their arrival.  Whatever else was going on – or not going on in her life – this was an opportunity to stop Emma.  After that, well, she’d just have to wait and see.</p><p>Apparently fate did not believe in waiting.  Instead it presented Lucy with the sight of Garcia at one of the workspaces typing with his index fingers, glasses half-way down his nose, as soon as she turned through an open archway. </p><p>“Lucy!”  He sounded as stunned as she felt.</p><p>She’d never seen him in glasses before Lucy realised.  They suited him.  Most everything suited him which was desperately unfair.  Just like it was unfair that he was right there, within reach, only he didn’t want to be reached.  His hasty retreat earlier had made that abundantly clear.</p><p>Pulling herself up to her full height, Lucy felt grateful her heels gave her a few more inches.  “Sorry.”  She said that far too often.  She wasn’t even sure what she was apologising for.  Interrupting him?  Daring to be in his presence when he’d gone out of his way to get away from her?  “We won’t be long.”  She waved her hand in Jiya’s direction willing her eyes to follow.  He’d run away from her at the first possible opportunity she reminded herself.  Any fanciful ideas of anything more than a working relationship between the two of them were entirely one sided.   “Jiya needed access to specialist computers without going to campus.”  She forced herself to turn and follow her friend.  She would not be defeated by this.  She was Lucy Preston; independent woman, historical protégé and internal basket case, emphasis on the internal.  The sooner she remembered that the better.</p><p>Head bent towards a keyboard Jiya typed on the laptop and the new computer simultaneously.  “Pass me that wire.”  She instructed, completely focused on her task.</p><p>Lucy took a wild guess which wire she meant – there was a large pile to choose from – and asked, “You have a plan?”  She could feel Garcia’s eyes on her but she remained where she was, refusing to look anywhere but at her friend.</p><p>“I’m going to send Emma’s nasty little chameleon virus back to her.”  Jiya’s fingers flew across the keys.  “Then I’m going to use it as a backdoor into her files.”</p><p>“Emma?”  Rufus finally managed for over their shoulders.  “Emma Whitmore?  That’s why you’re here?”</p><p>Jiya arched an eyebrow, typing as though he hadn’t spoken.  “Later for you.”</p><p>Knowing Jiya that was all she was going to say so Lucy took it upon herself to fill in the blanks.  “Emma’s been running a dirty tricks campaign lately.  The email you’ll find in your inbox,” With a herculean effort she managed to refrain from looking at Garcia – was he cursing the day he’d met her?  Remembering his painful past?  Dwelling on the time he’d wasted with the daughter of the enemy? – “if you haven’t seen it already, is her latest attack but Jiya thinks she has a way of linking it back to the source.”  Then maybe Lucy’s job wouldn’t be the only one in jeopardy.  As if her job was her top priority right now.  “Of course it would really help if she’d flesh out the plan a little.”</p><p>Rufus pulled up a chair beside Jiya, turning on a second monitor and beginning to type himself.  “You really think you can use a backdoor hack?  Emma’s firewall will be mighty.”</p><p>“You think I can’t?”  Jiya didn’t take her eyes of the screen but every fibre of her bristled.</p><p>“No!”  Scrambling backwards from the insinuation Rufus typed another line while explaining, “You can do anything you set your mind to.  You’re awesome.”  He blushed.  “I mean-”</p><p>Jiya finally looked at him properly, the hint of a smile playing about her lips.  “Stop.  Don’t ruin it.”</p><p>Hoping they were on the verge of something Lucy discretely edged backwards.  Unfortunately she’d – temporarily – forgotten about the Croatian tree waiting in the wings.</p><p>“Oh!”  Heat suffused her as she collided with his chest.  It was embarrassment.  She wouldn’t let it be anything else.  And she wasn’t going to apologise either.  If he was going to stand in doorways he was going to have to get used to people barrelling into him.</p><p>“Lucy I-”</p><p>Nope.  She might be maintaining a poised facade but if he wanted to verbalise the reasons for his hasty retreat then she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold it together.  “I’ll make some iced tea.”  She tried for casual, found an interesting spot on his shoulders – all that lovely definition outlined so perfectly by the T-shirt he was wearing (no, no, no, not noticing clothes or muscles or anything!) – to talk at and turned as fast as she could without stumbling.  “It’s the least I can do.”</p><p>Garcia had not received the memo on Lucy’s inner dialogue.  He followed in her wake.  “I wanted to-”</p><p>His words were cut off by her ringtone for which Lucy issued a silent prayer.  Five minutes.  That’s all she needed to work out how she was going to handle this without falling to pieces.  Thank you caller.  She managed a small smile and a ‘what can you do’ kind of shrug before retrieving the phone.</p><p>“Lucy?  Good.”  Denise Christopher was as direct as ever.  “This is a disaster.”</p><p>A horrible squirm started up in Lucy’s stomach.  “…Phone’s been ringing non-stop.”  The blood rushing through her ear wasn’t helping either.  Her salvation of a moment ago felt a lot like swapping the devil for the deep blue sea.  Did she still have a job?  Was this the call that went ‘we’re sorry but’?</p><p>“…Any idea who sent it?”</p><p>Taking a fortifying breath Lucy tried to hold onto her calm.  “I have a couple of ideas but nothing conclusive yet.  As soon as I do you’ll be my first call.”  There was a resigned sigh from the other end of the line.  “Dr Christopher, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about all of this.”</p><p>There was a long silence before Denise spoke again.  “Some gutless wonder who hides behind a false email address is not your fault Lucy.  What we need to do now is focus on how we handle things from this point out.”</p><p>The pessimistic side of her could hear the ‘so long and thanks for all your work’ speech but the way Denise kept saying ‘we’ gave her a sliver of hope.  Denise wasn’t the bigger problem here though.  That would be everyone else she had to convince.  The Dean - okay, he already knew about it but now that the whole university knew it was a different ball game - the Vice Chancellor, the Trust, the parents.  The list was endless.</p><p>“We’ve had several requests for comments from the local press so far and a deluge of calls from irate parents.”  Did she offer her resignation before they asked her to leave?  “The Dean has asked that you prepare a statement for the press and run it past the law department before it’s released.”  </p><p><em>‘I apologise for the embarrassment this has caused to my friends and colleagues.’</em>  Lucy could remember far too clearly the statement Stanford had given her to sign; the sting, the humiliation, the downright injustice of it.  Was it better that this time they wanted it in her own words?</p><p>Denise pressed on.  “I’m not too worried about the parents.  The press release should calm them down some.  The email’s contents regarding you were salacious lies and the sooner we can express that the better.  We need to get ahead of this thing.”</p><p>A statement wasn’t hard.  Her innocence was easy enough to prove.  The connection to Carol couldn’t be denied but she wasn’t responsible for her mother’s actions.  That wouldn’t clear things up with the Trust though.  “What about the members of the Committee?”</p><p>It sounded like Denise snorted.  She certainly coughed.  “Don’t worry about them Lucy.”  There was something close to amusement in her voice.  “Five minutes with Flynn and they were all ready to chain themselves to the railing in support of you.”</p><p>Lucy’s eyes darted to him at the mention of his name.  He’d moved out of earshot to give her some privacy but was lingering nearby, ostensibly reviewing Rufus’ DVD collection.  “Excuse me?”</p><p>“I’d just finished reading the contents of the email when Flynn came storming into my office demanding to know what I was going to do about it.  He insisted I called the board members to a video conference immediately and refused to move an inch until they all understood that the article in question was poor reporting, criminal slander and defamation of character.  Honestly, the Vice Chancellor was almost in tears.  I hope to God if I’m ever in trouble that man is on my side.”</p><p>Garcia had defended her?  But …?  He must have gone straight to Dr Christopher’s office after he put her in her car.  Why?  She’d never had someone retreat from her as quickly as he had.  The distance in his stance, the way he stopped meeting her eyes.  It didn’t add up.</p><p>As though sensing he was the topic of conversation Garcia looked up, raising an eyebrow when he caught her staring.  Lucy couldn’t have pulled her eyes away if she’d tried. </p><p>“Does this mean you’re not firing me?”  She all but whispered, trying to understand the man in front of her – and failing – while holding her breath for the answer from her phone.</p><p>“Firing you?  Not a chance.”</p><p>It only took a handful of words to end the call from there, most of which Lucy managed through the light-headedness of relief.  Not fired.  The university would stand by her – defend her if need be – and her chief advocate was Garcia Flynn.  The most infuriating, complex, annoying … The list was infinite and every single item on it was another reason she’d fallen for him.  Irrevocably. </p><p>Was it possible that Garcia felt something for her too?</p><p>Once Lucy didn’t have the excuse of Denise he approached slowly, ever watchful.  “Everything’s ok?”</p><p>“I … yes.  My job is safe.”  She sucked her lips back nervously.  A multitude of questions vied for seniority.  Had he spoken up on her behalf because they were friends?  Because they were more?  But if that was the case surely he wouldn’t have been so abrupt at her car.  No.  There had to be another reason.  “Denise said you spoke to the board on my behalf.”</p><p>The green intensity of his gaze dropped from hers, his shoulders rising and falling casually as he stepped back, closer to the doorway, once more in full retreat.  “The original article was a travesty of reporting.  That someone should use it to try to damage your career was unacceptable.  I simply said what needed to be said.  It was the right thing to do.”</p><p>It sounded so damn impersonal.  It needed to be said?  He’d have done the same for anyone?  Garcia wasn’t exactly a saint but he did have an overdeveloped sense of justice.  And here she was with her foolish dreams trying to make more of his actions than there was.  How many times did she have to learn the lesson?</p><p>Lucy plastered a smile on her face.  They were still colleagues.  If she was lucky they might still be friends.  “Thank you.” </p><p>“There’s no need to thank me.”  He dismissed, his face taking on taunt lines before he stepped further away from her, towards the others.</p><p>With nothing else to do Lucy quickly put together refreshments and followed suit.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Staccato typing and muttered oaths became the sound track of the next hour.  Infrequently Jiya would reach across and type something on Rufus’ console or Rufus would make a request for her to add something to whatever she was doing.  Lucy didn’t understand much but she knew whatever barrier they were trying to get through was putting up one hell of a fight.</p><p>“Pity she isn’t this thorough at work.”  Jiya groused tapping away.</p><p>“Her automotive retrieval programme was good.”</p><p>More grumbling.  “Good enough to get the funding but she hasn’t touched it since.”  Jiya gave a dark look, “Unless you count logging in for the records and getting everyone else to do the work.”</p><p>A couple of steps behind them Lucy refused to pace.  She couldn’t stop the way she was wringing her hands but it was only a small movement so it wouldn’t distract them.  Were they close?  She didn’t doubt Jiya’s ability but this was taking forever.  And if they did manage to break in to Emma’s files what exactly were they looking for?  Two copies of the article, one doctored one not?  A letter of confession?  A journal documenting Emma’s every move and thought that could be used in evidence against her?  Would the university even accept what they found given the means they were using?</p><p>Two strong hands landed on her shoulders, guiding her to a chair. </p><p>“Sit down before you explode.”  Garcia instructed, pulling up a second chair.  “There’s no point hovering.”</p><p>“I prefer to stand.”  Lucy insisted, trying to push up but his hands found her shoulders again and encouraged her compliance. </p><p>“You look like you’d prefer to climb the walls.”  When she made another attempt to move he added, “Please.  It’s painful to watch you trying so hard to contain yourself.”</p><p>He sounded so earnest Lucy had to work to hold on to her resolve.  If she couldn’t hover with intent she would need something else to occupy her.  “Emma and I never got on but I didn’t imagined she’d pull anything like this.”  She found herself admitting.</p><p>Garcia shook his head.  “She’s certainly one of a kind.”  His fingers messed up his hair as he pushed them through it.  “I admit I feel responsible.”  He waited for her to look at him.  “I’m sorry I dragged you into this Lucy.”</p><p>If he hadn’t she might not feel so heart sick but even knowing that she wouldn’t give up the time they spent together.  “You couldn’t have known it would lead to …” She waved her hands at the computers and the two people working doggedly before them.  Recalling how she had become involved though, Lucy remembered the mild panic on Garcia’s face as he’d darted across the quad trying to escape Emma and smiled.  “It’s not as if you could have persuaded Emma you were dating Halbrook now is it?”</p><p>The creases around his eyes winked at her.  “It would have been a challenge!”  He chuckled.  “Can you imagine the look on their faces?”  When she laughed his smile grew wider, his hand reaching out to hers and squeezing.  “Your generosity should never have been rewarded by this …” His English failed him.  “I knew right then, when you played along with me, that the idea I had of you was all wrong.  It made me want to look past my prejudice and see what Lucy Preston was really like.”</p><p>When he said things like that her traitorous heart began to speed up again, whispering hope into a hopeless situation.  Garcia felt guilty about his part in the Emma issue.  He was man enough to admit it.  That was all.  She had to stop seeing what she wanted to see.  Even if he was looking at her with an intensity that unnerved.  Even if her lips tingled from the way his eyes kept drifting to them.  Even if her breath was shortening until it came in small gasps and the warmth of his hand in hers travelled up her arm as he leaned forward in his seat and –</p><p>This time it was his ringtone that interrupted.  Lucy jumped like a scalded cat while Garcia fumbled in his trouser pocket, attempting to stop the noise.  He made a move to turn off the offending device, not letting go of her hand, but the number on the screen caught his attention.</p><p>He mouthed ‘sorry’ before answering with a curt, “Flynn.”</p><p>Someone spoke on the other end of the line and his brow ruffled.  “You’re sure?”  He dropped Lucy’s hand before standing and walking to the wall and back.  “This morning?”</p><p>There was silence as the other person spoke.  Garcia began to pace in earnest.  “No-one?”</p><p>More speaking on the other side of the call which seemed to be agitating Garcia no end.  His now free hand formed a fist while his face became dark.  “You’ve checked everywhere?”  A short response. </p><p>All the hairs on the back of Lucy’s neck began to stand on end, the tension radiating from Garcia beginning to pervade her body too.  She watched carefully, hoping for a sign, any indication that her instincts were wrong.  It didn’t come.</p><p>Without a goodbye he hung up, pressed buttons on his phone and attempted to make another call.  When there was no answer he swore loud enough that both Jiya and Rufus turned around.</p><p>For the first time in their acquaintance he looked older than his years, lines written deep in his skin.  “Garcia?” </p><p>“Iris missed her science class.”  His voice held a fine tremor.</p><p>All those niggling worries Lucy had felt reading Iris’ letters came back with a vengeance.  The odd behaviour her father had been displaying.  All bundled up in the man before her who looked ready to hit something or fly from the room or shout.</p><p>“Geez.”  Jiya blew out a breath, returning to her work and missing the expression on both Lucy and Garcia’s faces.  “That’s all?  I thought for sure your house must have burnt down or something.”</p><p>Rufus didn’t take the matter quite so lightly.  “They can’t find her?”</p><p>“No.  And she’d not answering her phone.”</p><p>Lucy suddenly wished she’d found a way to ask her questions.  Nameless, shapeless worries for the child she’d talked with in the kitchen emerged from the depths of her mind; an inescapable desire to protect springing forwards.  “Garcia?  What’s going on?  Is Iris..?”  She didn’t want to finish the thought.</p><p>Apparently neither did Garcia.  “She knows she has to call.”  He spoke almost to himself, focusing everywhere and nowhere at once.  “She wouldn’t just…”</p><p>Rufus gripped his arm.  “She’ll be fine Flynn.  Iris is a smart kid.”</p><p>Jiya prized her eyes off the monitor in front of her.  “I’m missing something aren’t I?  More than a kid cutting class.”</p><p>Struggling past the lump in her throat Lucy managed, “The men in suits?  Who came to the house?”</p><p>Garcia looked up, straight at Lucy who couldn’t help but hold her breath.  “Plain clothed police.  They were supposed to make sure…”  He turned and paced away then back again, dragging a hand over his face, talking to himself in words she didn’t understand before switching back to English.  “I never should have agreed to the affidavit.”  He slammed his fist on the closest work surface.  “I knew better.”</p><p>A rather awful picture began to form in Lucy’s head.  “You were going to testify against my mother.”  Not that she could blame him.  “You think she’d do something to Iris to stop you?”  If Lucy thought anything else she’d be kidding herself.  The things the police had shown her, asked her about, made Carol capable of most anything.</p><p>Unable to stop moving Flynn paced away from her then back again until he towered over her.  “After Lorena … When I wouldn’t let the article issues rest.  Cahill sent,” He swallowed hard.  “He sent men to the house - our old house - to remind me that I couldn’t,” he swallowed harder, a glitter to his eyes, “couldn’t watch Iris all the time.  I thought when we moved here…”</p><p>Lucy felt sick.  “They threatened you again?”  No wonder he’d insisted Iris call to check in at lunch times.</p><p>“Not directly.”  He looked at her, through her, in a whole world of pain, “There were photographs.  Iris getting on the school bus.  Hanging out in the park.  Walking down our street.”</p><p>“Oh God.”</p><p>The emotion in his eyes was killing her.  “She’s just thirteen Lucy.  I didn’t want to scare her.  I thought if I put in some cameras, restricted who she saw, made her call home more often, got her a dog…”  He was shaking in earnest now, his body hunching in on itself.  “The Cahill/Preston case is going to trial within the month.  They could … They might still think …”</p><p>Lucy’s feet pushed her up to meet him, her arms wrapping around him in the only comfort she could provide.  “We’ll find her Garcia.  Iris is going to be okay.”  She had to be.  The terror in him invaded her but she held on, knowing he needed her to be the strong one right now.  “You need to call whoever’s in charge of your case and let them know what’s going on.”  She pulled in some much needed air.  “I’m going to make a call of my own.”  Because if Carol had anything to do with this Lucy would never forgive her.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>Six agonising rings later the call connected.</p><p>“Preston residence.”</p><p>They’d started conversations like this a thousand times before.  Nothing had ever felt more surreal.  “Mother.”</p><p>“Lucy.”  The self-righteous gloat was nauseating.  “Finally.”</p><p>There was no time to drag this out.  “Iris Flynn.”</p><p>“I beg your pardon?”</p><p>“Iris Flynn, Garcia Flynn’s daughter.”  Lucy felt that was enough of an explanation.</p><p>“That man!”  Her mother’s outrage was a living beast.  “He’s the reason we’re in this mess.  Making a noise.  Preposterous accusations.  As if some lower class immigrant-”</p><p>“His daughter is missing.”</p><p>There was a long pause before Carol spoke again.  “And?”</p><p>“Do you have her?”  Lucy could picture Iris’ purple hair and tough girl attitude, could see the cracks in the mask to the young girl beneath.</p><p>“What??!”  Carol rarely shrieked but she did so now.</p><p>They’d never sat down and talked about the charges against Carol.  Lucy had never managed to voice her horror at what she’d been show, the evidence she’d listened to.  Instead Carol had talked at Lucy for hours, twisting everything until it was hard to tell what was right and what was wrong.  In the end Lucy had done the only thing she could and left, with no intention of ever returning.  Now - for Iris’ sake - she was prepared to offer her mother one final chance. </p><p>“Whatever you’ve done.  Whatever you’ve said or lied about.  I don’t care.  I don’t care about any of it.  Iris Flynn is a child.  If you had anything to do with her going missing.  If Cahill,” the name felt like an expletive, "had anything to do with it.  You tell me now.  Or I swear on Amy’s life, Mother, you will never hear from me again.”</p><p>“Lucy!”</p><p>She had nothing more to say.</p><p>“I hardly even knew the Flynn girl existed.”  Carol admitted slowly.  “What would I want with her?”</p><p>“And <em>him?</em>”</p><p>There was an even slower response.  “Benjamin is about to stand trial for ordering the death of his business rivals.  You seriously think he’d be bothered about someone who got upset that I didn’t approve of his historical conclusions?  Really Lucy-”</p><p>“Thank you Mother.”  Lucy disconnected the call.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“We could go back to the house.”</p><p>The need to be doing something was strong.  Sitting in Rufus’ converted second bedroom watching Jiya and Rufus work while she and Garcia waited was painful. </p><p>They had to be able to do something.</p><p>Staring blankly at the wall in front of him Garcia shook his head.  “The police said wait.  They want to check the house over and look at the CCTV before we come back.”</p><p>At least her computer friends had something they could occupy themselves with.  They could take out their frustration on Emma’s firewall.  She and Garcia were like the extra wheels on an articulated lorry, spinning in mid-air without purpose or direction. </p><p>“None of her friends know anything?”  Lucy knew the answer, had listened to Garcia tell the police, call the friends himself and relay everything back to the three people waiting with him.</p><p>“She was in first period.  No-one’s seen her since.”</p><p>She could ask about the school security but that was another answer she already knew.  If only her brain would allow her to think rationally, not taint everything with all those horror stories she’d ever seen on the news, all those black and white photographs of what happened to people who crossed Benjamin Cahill.  But if it wasn’t Cahill.  If the school was as secure as they maintained.  Where was Iris?</p><p>“Eu-fucking-reka!”  Jiya’s shout of triumph broke Lucy’s downward spiral.</p><p>“You’re through?”</p><p>“You bet-ya!”</p><p>Rufus beamed at Jiya, his face a picture of awe and adoration.  “You are a goddess!”</p><p>Jiya actually blushed.  To take the edge off it she shot him a cheeky wink.  “Don’t ever forget it.”</p><p>The screens in front of them changed for the first time as files popped up and backgrounds flashed past.  It was the work of moments to access a draft email folder that had several version of the ‘gifts for grades’ email Lucy had been dealing with but they didn’t stop there. </p><p>“Er, guys?”  Lucy winced as Flynn’s fingers flexed convulsively.  “We might have been looking at this all wrong.” </p><p>This time the screens cluttered up with images, casual style photographs of Garcia moving around campus, talking animatedly at the front of a lecture hall, on his knees in his front yard digging in the boarders.</p><p>“What the..?”</p><p>“There’s more.” </p><p>Other images replaced the first; images of a girl with dark hair and sunglasses dragging a bag behind her, the same girl mounting the steps of a school bus, a now purple headed girl playing with a large dog in a garden.</p><p>Lucy wondered if her fingers might break from the pressure.  “Those are the photographs that came to the house.”</p><p>Ergo not Cahill.  Not Carol.  But Emma?</p><p>Jiya kept the pictures rolling, tutting as she tried to establish a time line.  “Stalker-ish much?”</p><p>An image of Garcia climbing into his car popped up next.  It was badly lit, in the university parking lot and yes, “That’s me.”  Lucy pointed to the blurred image in the background.  “That must have been right after our first staff meeting together.”</p><p>Rufus dragged the image to a download folder he was compiling.  “Man, you’ve been here since spring.  She’s been following you since then?”</p><p>Taking in the photographs one by one Garcia’s fingers began to flex and release.  “She’s been to the house.  Those pictures of Iris…”  He released Lucy so that he could highlight the images he’d seen.  “That’s the old back gate.  I changed it before I started at the university.”  He flicked through more and more files, his head shaking in denial or disbelief, probably both.</p><p>“Does Iris even know Emma?”  Lucy asked, thinking things through aloud.  “Because if she doesn’t why would she leave school with her?  And how is Emma not on the school’s CCTV?  Wouldn’t she have to sign Iris out?”</p><p>A renewed purpose overtook Flynn who swiped his car keys off the table he’d been working at.  “Let’s go ask her.”  And he strode from the room.</p><p>“Wait!  Shouldn’t we…”  Lucy sprinted after him, her voice dying away as they left the house.</p><p>Jamming her teeth together Jiya eyed Rufus.  “You don’t think he’d do anything stupid do you?”</p><p>“To the woman who might have his daughter?  I wouldn’t like to bet.”</p><p>The sound of an engine roared, the squeal of tires.  “Should we go after him?”</p><p>Rufus looked torn but finally decided, “Nah.  Lucy will talk him down.”  He discretely touched the wood of the table-top.  “We’re better off here.”  He opened a new folder and started dragging and dropping items onto his external hard-drive.  “This is some creepy-ass shit.”  He commented as a photograph of Iris and Flynn eating dinner appeared.   “Who does this?”</p><p>“And more worryingly mails it <em>sans</em> message?”  Jiya kept digging, looking for the article that had spurred her pursuit.  “I always pegged Emma for a bitch but there’s a screw loose in her head if she thinks this is normal.”</p><p>Minutes ticked past as they put anything that might be relevant onto the drive.  Rufus broke the silence first.  “So, leaving aside the total slice of crazy that is Emma what is wrong with this picture?”  He indicated the ‘device full’ box on his screen.  “That’s a 1TB hard-drive.”</p><p>“Our friend obviously has a thing for definition.  These are all TIFF files.  What?  She thinks she’s a professional photographer or something?”  Jiya searched the closest drawer.  “You got any more of those?”</p><p>“There might be one in the filing cabinet.  I’ll check upstairs.  They’re here somewhere.”</p><p>It didn’t take long to find that the filing cabinet was a bust.  Listening to the muffled sounds of rustling from above her Jiya sat back down to continue her search when the monitor Flynn had been using earlier lit up.  It was instinct that made Jiya read the message and dismiss it before doing a rapid double take.</p><p>The chatroom pop-up was generic, a game room for retro games.  Apparently Rufus was interested in the original Hobbit game.  Whatever.  The thing that made Jiya read the message over was the handle.</p><p>Replying to your ask: <em>JasterMereel456 asked…</em></p><p>“Rufus!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Letters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Explanations, beginnings and a letter.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>8b but it won't let me have that on the chapter count.</p><p> </p><p>Havala Bogu - Thank God<br/>Mali Jedan - little one</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Given that it was just after three it was easy to find Emma.  The IT lab techs looked at Lucy funny, some of them actually taking a step away as though she might pull a weapon of some kind, but were happy enough to tell her that Emma (obviously a much loved member of the team – not) could not exist without her afternoon caffeine hit and could be found at the coffee shop just off campus.  Apparently the student café was beneath her.</p><p>For the first time Lucy was glad she’d been running with Jiya as Garcia set a blistering pace.  “What exactly are you going to say to her?”  She panted, trying to slow him down with a tug to his hemline.</p><p>He looked down at her hand pulling at the fabric of his top and up at Lucy’s face, registering her heightened colour and rapid breathing.  “What the fuck?”</p><p>Stopping in her tracks, Lucy dropped her hand quickly.  She resisted the urge to smooth down the crushed material.  “Your T-shirt’s fine!” </p><p>He waited a beat.  “No.  That’s what I’m going to say to her.”</p><p>“Oh.”  Lucy frowned.  “It’s a bit vague.  And aggressive.”</p><p>“She’s been taking photographs of my daughter and sending them to me as a threat.  Aggressive is hardly …” Garcia looked every inch the outraged parent, full primal rage on display.</p><p>Lucy figured her job was to find a way to moderate the rage and channel it into a more useful form.  “Okay.  But if you launch into it like that she might clam up and then we’re not going to find out anything.”</p><p>Garcia’s nostrils flared.  “What?  You think I should offer to pay for her coffee?”</p><p>“Well, no.”  Setting off at a more reasonable speed Lucy kept her tone calm.  “But maybe you should try a less combative opening line?”</p><p>With a dramatic flourish of his arm Garcia bowed.  “Please, oh wise one, won’t you tell me what I should say to the woman who’s kidnapped my daughter!!!”</p><p>There was the crux of Lucy’s argument.  “We don’t know that’s what’s happened.”</p><p>“I think-”</p><p>“That’s just it.  You’re not thinking.  You’re reacting.  And it’s completely understandable but it won’t get you anywhere.”  He had to see that.</p><p>Eyes practically glowing, colour staining his cheekbones, Garcia peered down his nose at her.  The whole of his frame shook until her words found their mark.  He shook his head to clear it.  “I … Sorry.  You’re right.”  His chest swelled as he sucked in a football stadium sized breath.  “Iris-”</p><p>“We’re going to find her.”  They simply had to.   “But before we launch into the pinning Emma to the wall and threatening to hurt her while the onlookers call the police part of the programme perhaps we should find out if she’d been off campus today first?”</p><p>He frowned.  “That’s reasonable.”</p><p>“Then you can call the cops on her ass and they can quiz her about what she’s been up to.”</p><p>Looking fractionally more like himself Garcia clarified, “If that doesn’t work I’m going for the pin her to the wall option you understand?”</p><p>Taking his hand in hers Lucy gave a quick smile.  “By all means.  I’ll keep her legs still.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not what you think.”  Rufus held his hands in the air as though Jiya was holding a gun on him.</p><p>Waves of disbelief radiated from her.  That and a combination of embarrassment and fury.  “Really.”</p><p>“I can explain.”</p><p>Jiya crossed her arms, face set.  “This is going to be good.”</p><p>Cautiously Rufus lowered his arms and perched on the edge of the closest chair.  “I adore you.”</p><p>She wasn’t buying it.  “Nice try pal.  Now cut the crap and get to the part where you pretend to be someone completely different so I humiliate myself over and over again.”</p><p>“It wasn’t like that.”  Mournful pools of deep brown pleaded at her.</p><p>“You want to swap seats and say that?”</p><p>He sighed and tried to find a way to explain.  “I never pretended to be someone else.”</p><p>The flat of Jiya’s palm slapping the table beside her echoed around the room.  “And I’m Princess Leia.”</p><p>“I’ve always been honest-”</p><p>Nope.  Not having half-truths.  Not anymore.  “Here’s the thing … <em>Jaster</em>.  Honest means talking to someone in an upfront and direct manner.  Honest means when your co-worker says she’s met someone online and you know it’s you, you have the decency to admit to it.  Honest means-”</p><p>“I couldn’t tell you.”  He reached out to take her hands in his but she pulled back.</p><p>“What?  Someone put a gun to your head?”</p><p>This was so not how Rufus had planned to tell her this.  “You’re amazing and beautiful and awesome and-”</p><p>Jiya shot out of her chair, arms wrapped around her middle to put some space between them.  “Enough.”  She was tempted to put her hands over her ears to block him out.</p><p>After all this time Rufus wasn’t prepared to give up just yet though.  “And I knew there was no chance you would ever look at someone like me.  Hell, every time we did speak I got so nervous I wanted to vomit.  I could hear myself saying all the wrong things but I couldn’t stop it so I decided it was better not to say anything at all.  Then I saw your handle in one of my chat rooms.  I only wanted to talk to you.  If I could do it online I figured I could find a way to do it at work only it did play out like that.  You liked me when I was <em>Jaster</em> and I liked that you liked me.  I kept telling myself this would be the last time but I wanted to talk to you so I kept going.”</p><p>He really did sound sincere. </p><p>“Pull the other one.”  Her voice was less certain.</p><p>“No.  Really.”  He stood and dared a step closer.  “After the Jazz club I was so stoked.  And the arcade was amazing.  I thought I was on cloud nine but then I realised I had to tell you about <em>Jaster</em> only I knew you’d react like this and I couldn’t do it.”</p><p>She studied him carefully, judging every flicker of emotion, trying to read the truth in the depth of his eyes.  “So you hid?”</p><p>“I did not!”  It was Rufus’ turn for a little outrage.</p><p>Jiya crossed her arms, less for self-preservation, more in scepticism.  “Working from home?  You didn’t even text.  You let HR tell me.”</p><p>Looking abashed he dropped his gaze to admit, “Okay, so maybe there was a little bit of hiding involved.”</p><p>“And now?”</p><p>“Now?”  Hope shone out of his beautiful face.</p><p>Taking the lead Jiya stepped forward, not quite within touching distance.  “Now I know.  What are you going to do about it?”</p><p>In an act of bravery Rufus had not believed himself capable of he met her in the middle.  “Grovel.”  He leant forward, allowing her the chance to pull back and when she didn’t take it allowed his lips to touch hers. “Beg?”</p><p>“Getting warmer.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>It was possible Lucy should have tried harder to convince Garcia to call his police contacts before they reached Emma.  In an ideal world even though they were approaching a somewhat insane stalker without backup things would have gone more smoothly.</p><p>They started out smoothly at least.</p><p>“Garcia!”  Emma was all smiles until she saw Lucy behind him.  Then her mask slipped enough to see the malice beneath.  “What are <em>you</em> doing here?”</p><p>The temptation to say drinking coffee was large but given the circumstances.  “We need your help.”</p><p>“We?”  If looks – or words – could kill.</p><p>“My daughter.”  Really, Garcia was being remarkably calm considering Lucy was certain he was ready to move to the violent option already.  “Have you seen her?”</p><p>Emma tried for innocent.  She tried to pretend she was surprised Garcia even had a daughter.  That’s what triggered Garcia’s temper and the escalation in noise that started to draw all eyes in the room to them.</p><p>“What have you done with her?”</p><p>So yes, things could have gone better but this was where they were.  And, so far, Emma wasn’t dangling from a wall with Garcia’s hands around her throat.</p><p>“Nothing.  I’ve done nothing.”  Emma’s attempt at indignation wasn’t terribly convincing.  “I didn’t even know-”</p><p>Rather than repeat the same conversation only louder, Lucy decided it was time to intervene.  “Where were you this morning?”</p><p>When Emma hissed back an insult Garcia became more insistent.  “Answer her.”</p><p>The menace of his voice was enough to convince Emma she’d better be up front.  “In the lab, okay!  I was in the lab all morning.  The people from one of our projects were in reviewing our progress and I had to babysit.”</p><p>When he didn’t bark back the red-head actually tried to appeal to him, her voice all syrupy.  “What’s this all about Garcia?  Why are you acting like this?  Whatever <em>she’s</em> been saying to you-”</p><p>“You’ve been taking photographs of my family.”  It wasn’t exactly subtle.</p><p>Emma fell back a step, regrouped.  “I take photographs of all kinds of things.  I prefer action shots mostly.  You would make a wonderful study-”</p><p>If Lucy thought this was more than enough she couldn’t begin to think what Garcia was feeling.  Time to end the charade.  “Your computer says you’ve already started on your collection.”</p><p>A truly ugly look stained Emma’s face, twisting up the lines she normally smoothed out as she began to understand.  “How would you know..?  You couldn’t… They couldn’t…” Then all of a sudden she launched herself forwards, screaming.  “I’m going to break your skinny little neck!”</p><p>The woman had one hell of a swing on her but thankfully Garcia blocked her, putting himself bodily between her and Lucy, holding onto Emma’s wrists while she writhed and hurled abuse.  When the police arrived Emma was all but foaming at the mouth, ricocheting from loathsome insults about Lucy to pledges of love for Garcia.  It was painful to watch.  Lucy felt a huge sense of relief as she saw the squad car turn the corner and Emma disappear from sight.</p><p>There was still an enormous problem though.  Where was Iris?</p><p>Lucy sat herself next to Flynn on the bench and tried to rearrange the puzzle in her head.  Cahill and Carol were out of the picture.  So was Emma.  The photographs were a dead end.  There was no trace of Iris at Flynn’s house.  The school CCTV was a bust.  No-one had entered the building or asked to withdraw Iris from it.</p><p>“I can’t lose her.”  It was the first thing Garcia had said since speaking to the police.  He was sat with his hands in his head, leaning forwards trying to hold himself together.  “Not after Lorena.  Not after everything.”</p><p>The only words Lucy had were platitudes.  Instead she leant over, resting her chin on his shoulder, offering him the comfort of contact, hoping that she could will her strength into him.</p><p>“What if we can’t find her?”  His voice was muffled, ragged, full of tears.  “Both my girls gone in the same month.”</p><p>It stirred something in Lucy’s memory; a snippet of a line from a letter, a fraction of a conversation in a kitchen.  Both his girls in the same month?  That would mean that Lorena died in this month several years ago.  It would be her anniversary and Iris…</p><p>“I think I know where to find her.”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>The bus station was busier than Lucy would have liked but given the hour it could have been worse.  The Greyhounds running east out of state only left twice a day.  If they were lucky Iris would have missed the first.</p><p>Lucy had explained her reasoning on the way.  “Iris was really upset that you’d cancelled your trip.  It was to visit Lorena’s gravestone wasn’t it?  She said she didn’t want her mother to be alone.”</p><p>Garcia kept his eyes on the road, swerving to avoid other cars as they travelled at speed.  “I still don’t understand why she’d tell you all of this.  Iris isn’t exactly an over-sharer.”</p><p>It was confession time then.  “She didn’t know she was telling me.”  At Garcia’s confused look she continued, “I was involved in a writing exchange that my sister set up through her job.  The idea was to help develop literacy skills and potentially pair-up teens who needed a way to express their emotions in a constructive manner with someone who might understand them.  I matched with Iris.  Or rather Rainbow Goddess.  Amy called this weekend and I put the pieces together.  I was going to tell you.”  She’d hastened to add.</p><p>To her surprise Garcia had smiled.  “You’re the History Geek.”</p><p>“She told you?”  The weight of guilt it lifted from Lucy was immense.</p><p>They’d pulled up into the drop off zone then and Garcia had kept hold of the hand he’d taken to help her from the car.  “Are you kidding?  Iris is half in love with you.  Apart from her friend Brady, History Geek is the only other person she mentions regularly.”</p><p>Now they scoured the lines forming along the side of the coaches, looking for the tell-tale shock of purple.  Iris had to be here.</p><p>They cleared three buses without success.  Lucy was about ready to suggest they go to the ticket office to ask for help when Garcia pulled her up short.</p><p>“<em>Havala Bogu!</em>”</p><p>Lucy wasn’t sure her feet touched the ground as the sprinted over to the girl about to climb aboard the last of the buses.</p><p>“Iris!”</p><p>Purple hair spun, a guilty but defiant face looking back, a carbon copy of her fathers.  “You can’t stop me!”</p><p>Garcia swept the girl up into his arms, crushing her tightly to him, speaking in a rapid torrent of Croatian before, “Do you have any idea..!”</p><p>“Garcia.”  Lucy knew it wasn’t her place but if Rainbow Goddess on paper was anything like Iris in person this was not the time to give a lecture.</p><p>The man in front of her caught himself, breathed deep and tried again.  “<em>Mali Jedan</em>.  I was out of my mind with worry.  I thought,” he swallowed.  “Why didn’t you talk to me?  Tell me how much this trip meant to you?”</p><p>The girl looked between Lucy and Garcia, saw the same level of concern in both their faces.  “Is she why you cancelled it?”</p><p>“No!”  Lucy was horrified the idea had even occurred to Iris.  “Of course not.”</p><p>They were blocking the other passengers so Garcia manoeuvred them to the side, bending at the knee so that he was the same height as Iris.  “There’s been some trouble at the university.  I wanted to protect you but I see now I should have explained everything instead.  Our trip … I postponed it,” He held up his hand when Iris went to interrupt.  “It was always just a temporary postponement Iris.  I needed to make sure you were safe before we went.  That’s all.  Lucy…”  He looked up, a light in his eyes Lucy had never seen before, “Lucy is a very special person to me.  She’s a very special person to you too if you’ll hear us out.”</p><p>“Are you going to marry her?”  Iris pouted.</p><p>Garcia and Lucy blushed in unison.  “I think a date might be more appropriate at this point if Lucy would agree?”</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>“Dr Preston.”</p><p>“Dr Flynn.”</p><p>“You look radiant.”  Lucy twirled so that her dress spun out, revealing the slit up to mid-thigh.  “Better than radiant.”</p><p>She tugged at the edges of Garcia’s bowtie.  “I think I like this better when it’s open.”  She gave him a wicked smile.</p><p>He returned with his most serious frown, batting her hand away.  “Do not mess with the bowtie.  Rufus will have a fit.”</p><p>Hooking her arm through his Lucy allowed Garcia to lead her to the waiting car.  “Are you all set?”</p><p>“Music.  Trumpet.  Beautiful companion.  Check, check and check.”  He ticked them off on his fingers before climbing behind the wheel.</p><p>“And Rufus?”  Tonight was going to be a big night for him.  And Jiya.</p><p>Garcia smiled.  “He’s a total wreck.  He’d better ask her before our set or we’ll be appalling.”</p><p>Tonight’s club was out of town so there was a whole lot of nothing between her house and there. </p><p>“If he does that you’ll be down a double bass.”</p><p>“You’ll just have to step in to make up the quartet.”  With a wink Garcia returned his attention to the country roads.</p><p>“Hell no.”</p><p>“You don’t want to sing for me?”</p><p>Deliberately she slid her hand across his lap and breathed into his ear.  “Ask me nicely later and I’ll see what I can do.”  She applied the slightest bit of pressure with her fingertips while she nipped at his earlobe.  The car swerved.  “You seem a touch distracted there Dr Flynn.  Having trouble driving?”</p><p>“Minx.”  He managed to keep them on the road while stealing a swift kiss.  “Wait until we get home.”</p><p>She sighed.  “Promises, promises.”</p><p>Garcia pulled over, lifting Lucy from her seat and depositing her in his lap before kissing her soundly.  “We don’t need to be there for a while.”</p><p>Biting at his lip Lucy mouthed, “You don’t want to hold Rufus’ hand?”</p><p>But Garcia’s hands had found other wonderful things they could be doing instead.  “Suddenly I’m not in that big of a hurry.”  The windows of the car started to steam up.  “This is not the most romantic setting!”</p><p>Lucy wiggled until she found the right position.  “We can do roses and candlelight next time.”</p><p>Between the slide of material and the sigh of bodies Garcia managed, “The woman I love,” a kiss to the neck, “deserves” a lick of the collarbone, “nothing but the best.” </p><p>Opening her mouth wider so that their tongues could dance Lucy laughed.  “I’ve got that. I’ve got you.”</p><p>The drivers seat had a handy electronic control that allowed the seat to lean backwards.  “Always.  Just don’t touch the bow tie.  It took me an age to get right.”</p><p>Hours later, somewhere in the darkness a black piece of silk drifted unnoticed in the wind.  Garcia couldn’t find it in himself to be too upset about it either.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear Lucy,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Camp could be worse.  It doesn’t suck too bad.  If you know what I mean.  The weather’s been good which is awful.  There’s this amazing indoor space we’re not allowed to use unless it rains and what do you know.  Sunshine.  Hours of endless sunshine.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>How are things back home?  Is Mason behaving himself?  Can you believe Dad wouldn’t let me bring him?  I mean, you obviously can because it’s Dad and if anyone gets him it’s you, but really?  He’d love it here.  All the space and he could swim in the lake and do doggy stuff.</em>
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  <em>I thought the girls in my hut were going to be a problem.  Like, OMG, Chantal – you can tell from the name can’t you – drips pink everywhere.  It’s gross.  But it turns out if you pretend the pink is black she’s quite cool.  She likes computers like me.  I even let her fix my hair.  Dad’s going to hate it.  It’s green!  I camouflage.  It’s fantastic.</em>
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  <em>I’m learning to sail.  Okay, I know I already know how but the counsellor teaching the sailing course.  *Sigh.*  So he’s a bit older than me.  Dad’s a bit older (like a lot older) than you and that works.  He taught me how to tie a Sheet Bend knot.  It turns out I need A LOT of instruction ;)</em>
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  <em>Have you got settled in the house yet?  I bet Dad’s driving you nuts telling you where to put everything.  Tell him to back off from me.  As long as you don’t touch my room – DO NOT TOUCH MY ROOM – you can put things wherever you want.  Just don’t cook alright.  I don’t want to have to come home early cos you’re both hospitalised with food poisoning.</em>
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  <em>Anyway, the dinner bell just went and this was only supposed to be a quick check in.</em>
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  <em>Can’t wait to hear from you both.  I expect pictures of my baby.</em>
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  <em>Iris, the one and only Rainbow Goddess.</em>
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